


Healing with Fire

by ashes_of_roses (KendraLuehr)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, House Party, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Multiple Sex Positions, Obsession, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Peeping, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Taboo Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 39,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/ashes_of_roses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blindly, Will had forced himself to view Abigail as a child. If he hadn't, he knew he would've viewed her as a woman -- that his love would've suddenly become ugly and perverse. But sometimes in life, a girl needs far more than a father's love. (Strong sexual content)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know some people just want to read smut, so I've made a directory of sorts:
> 
>  **Sexual content with penetration:** CH 12, 16  & 22  
>  **Oral sex:** CH 14  & 15
> 
> I've also written Hannibal stories on my other account, **KendraLuehr,** which you can find here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/KendraLuehr

The drive to Abigail’s hospital was much longer than Will remembered. He found himself lost after three unexpected wrong turns, and, after a brief talk with a gas station manager, followed the new directions and ended up arriving much later than originally planned. In his mind, this proposition took place over a brightly lit meeting in the garden (perhaps even over a game of chess, if Abigail felt up to it). Now, however, it was clearly going to be a one-on-one confrontation with the looming dusk. It didn't help settle the acid in his stomach to envision the questions he needed to ask...or rather, the invitation he needed to extend. Worse yet, the sky had turned purple with clouds. Perhaps a storm was in the horizon? It made the whole scenario feel quite ominous.

After checking in at the front desk, Will followed the designated nurse up the staircase, all too aware of the heavy sound his footfalls made as they single-filed toward Abigail's room. Where her presence used to give him a sense of fledgling hope, he now only felt dread and foreboding agony.

The moment Will saw his ward, the look on her face told him the sentiment was shared. Abigail went white as a sheet, her whole body beginning to make the nervous motions he knew so well. She pulled her hair between thumb and forefinger, tugged it straight, tossed it behind her shoulder. Smoothed the bedspread twice before deciding not to sit down. Knotted her fingers together and made her way to the window. She was thin and waifish…the natural beauty that had once marked her features was now dulled and wilted. She seemed so tired…

“Hi,” Will said, attempting to break the silence.

Abigail lifted her eyes for a moment, then quickly darted them back down toward her hands. It would seem the separation had made strangers of them once again.

Will made a sound that was half a laugh, half a scoff. "After all we’ve been through, are you really going to shut me out?” His jaded gaze sought hers, but again Abigail refused him the decency of eye contact. Her dismissal stung worse than a rankling sore.

“I think it's high time we talked about...about what we've... about what happened,” he tried again. “About your future." Removing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I can't believe you want to be alone in this hospital... That you don’t want a friend. Tell me I’m right.” He looked up at her sadly. "Tell me you want me in your life. I want to be here for you, Abigail, but only if you’ll let me."

There. At last, he’d said the words that had yearned to escape the prison of his mind, the freeing longevity of it all unclasping the bonds that had long since tethered his soul. It had been painful being away from her. And though Will had never quite understood his feelings for Abigail, he wanted to believe that they were pure and wholesome – that his needing her was completely normal. If he didn’t have Abigail, there wouldn’t be a shred of light left within his bottomless pit of a soul, and that frightened him. He’d seen complete darkness once before – a brief, frightening kiss between death and fate – and he never wanted to feel that way again. How could he explain how that felt without sounding completely ridiculous? How do you tell a girl who feels she barely knows you that you have an almost obsessive need to protect her? That you feel a sense of burdensome responsibility toward her? 

He watched Abigail flit around the room, a frightened bird trying to find its way to the open window. Will deflated. He disliked this turn Abigail’s psyche had taken, where she joined him in an elaborate dance of avoidance and muted conflict.

He didn't particularly enjoy her being afraid of him. The last time she’d looked at him with those wide, fearful eyes was when a knife had been perched beneath her throat. The thought made him quiver.

“Am I really that horrible?” Will asked, feeling the words lodge painfully in his throat. “Do you hate me that much?”

Abigail finally stopped pacing, her bright, cauliflower blue eyes peering at him over her shoulder. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered. Though the comment had been harmless enough, there was a catch in her voice – an imperceptible quivering that lanced through Will like a harpoon.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised. “Is that what this is about? Do you…do you think I’ll hurt you like…like…?”

“Like Hannibal did?” she viciously cut in. Discreetly, Abigail touched the mangled scarring on her throat, keeping her eyes directed straight ahead.

Will clenched his fists. The high-pitched whine that signaled the most immobilizing of his headaches began, making his vision flash painfully in his skull. Recently they'd been coming three times a day, always lingering on the horizon before incapacitating him. Tiny airstrikes in his head. He huffed a noisy breath, paced a small path from her dresser to the door and back again, hands shoved into his back pockets. Stopped. Turned slightly toward her, shoulders still hunched. When he realized that Abigail was only showing him her back, Will crossed to the bed and swallowed.

"Can I…can I sit down for a minute?" He didn’t wait for an answer, his body sinking down onto the mattress with a long, drawn-out sigh. He worried a loose cuticle on his right index finger, pulling it just to the point of pain. The searing in his head subsided to a dull throb, off to the side enough that he could think clearly again.

"I...I thought that you needed someone,” he softly said. “Someone you could rely on. Someone who’s been through what you have, and I…I thought that person would be me. I didn't expect you to ignore my letters." Will cringed slightly, teeth clamped together. "Not that I’m the most suitable person to talk to, of course…I’ve been told I have the charm of a cactus. But it’s just that I thought we had some sort of odd, untouchable bond…that we understood one another." He glanced at her again. "Was I wrong?"

“I don’t want to go,” Abigail said again, a firmness edging her tone. Her words startled him, but gave him a tiny shred of hope – a scant scrap of faith that she might actually wish to share his company. Unfortunately for Will, Abigail’s temper seemed to have designs of its own.

“Do you think that by taking me away, I’ll somehow forget everything that’s happened?” She scoffed, her eyes flashing indignantly. “Talking to you or going on some retreat isn’t going to change that, Will. I’ll always be stained…I’ll always be a monster.”

Will flinched. “What happened wasn’t your fault, Abigail. Hannibal-”

“What happened _was_ my fault! I killed Alana Bloom!”

Silence ensconced the pair and Will faltered, his face suddenly appearing gaunt and pale. “You didn’t mean it,” he feebly said, needing to believe it. “Hannibal told you to, remember?”

“Right…‘I didn’t know what else to do,’” she crisply recited. “Well now that I think about it, there was _plenty_ I could’ve done, but I chose not to help her! I’m a coward!”

Deep down, Will could hear Alana’s dulcet tones in his subconscious, berating him for pursuing such an “unhealthy” bond. He ducked his head. As strongly as logic was screaming at him to see reason, Abigail’s guilt somehow endeared her to him all the more. He needed to protect her – he _would_ protect her, and he’d be damned if he allowed her to carry this pain like a martyr.

“I want to help you,” he softly said, head bowed and eyes downcast. “Will you at least let me do that?”

Abigail snorted. “The last time you ‘helped me,’ I ended up being handed over for slaughter. I’m tired of being the pawn in someone else’s game, Will – did it ever occur to you that I’m tired of playing? That I just want to forfeit and turn in my pieces?”

 _‘No more than I do,’_ Will thought, but crushed it like an unpleasant insect. Instead, he shook his head. "No… You're only saying that because you’re afraid. You were afraid with Alana too, and you acted on that fear. But there's nothing to be afraid of now. We're going to...we're going to _handle_ this. I’m going to protect you."

“How?” Abigail wearily asked. “You’re a man of the law… Or something like that. I don’t get why you’d want to help me… I didn’t think it was in your job description to aid and abet the ‘bad guys.’”

Will’s features darkened. “I don’t work with the FBI anymore.”

“Even so…you shouldn’t want to help me. I’m a lost cause.”

“Which is even more of a reason to help,” he fired back. She was directly in front of him now, face downturned and curtained by her long, dark hair. Compulsively, Will reached out and took her limp hand in his, feeling the dampness of her palm against his skin. Her fingers seemed to instinctively grasp at him, gripping so tightly that he felt his bones grinding together. “I want to help you,” he tried again. “I don’t want to file you away like some bad memory, Abigail… I’ve already lost you once. It’d be far more painful to lose you again, knowing that you’re actually within arm’s reach.” He sighed. “I’ve already spoken with the nurses, and they’re granting me permission to take you away for a few months. All I’m asking for is your consent.”

Abigail eyed him skeptically.

“I think it’s high time you made your own decisions,” he softly said. “Between your father, Hannibal and myself, I’m sure you’re sick of being told what to do. You’re…you’re twenty years old now, according to your records, and that’s more than old enough to be calling the shots.”

“Really?” There was a softening around her mouth, her eyes dancing with what looked like an internal struggle. At this point in her life, she was far too afraid to hope – all of her dreams had long since been dashed.

Will nodded, attempting reassurance. “If you pack your things, we can leave tonight. I’ve rented us a cabin up in Lakemont.”

“And your dogs?”

He grinned. “They’re in the car.”

Again her mouth twitched, though this time it was in the beginnings of a smile. “You shouldn’t leave them alone like that for long…or at least, not in this heat. I’ll be out in just a minute.”

Will knew that that was as close to a “yes” as he was going to get, so deciding not to push his luck, he hid his elation (or tried to) and agreed, “Great, I’ll be downstairs. Just come down when you’re ready.”

Abigail nodded, but was no longer smiling. Her face was a mask of darkness and bafflement and hope, all of which caused a flurry of emotions to stir within Will’s breast. Despite her aloof attitude, he cared for her deeply. If he failed her in any way, he knew he would never forgive himself.

 

* * *

 

The drive was not at all what Will had expected. Given Abigail’s concern for his dogs, he’d had a fleeting hope that somehow, upon seeing them with their big brown eyes and pleasant disposition, she’d drop her despairing attitude and start looking at him with warmth. This, unfortunately, was not to be. When Abigail had climbed into the car, she’d ignored his dogs, even going so far as to snub the ever-friendly Winston, who’d curiously begun nosing her from his spot in the backseat. The creature hadn’t received so much as a pat on the head.

Crestfallen, Will had started the car and begun their journey.

The moments had been slow, torturous, and marked by Will’s yearning for Abigail to open up and speak candidly. She never did. In fact, she didn’t so much as glance in his direction. In an attempt at easing the tension, Will had turned on the radio, but had received a shock when Abigail abruptly snapped it back off. Didn’t she find her thoughts as abhorrent and lonely as he did his? He much preferred the vapid, mundane dronings of rock stars to the prison of his mind.

“Abigail, I…”

She suddenly turned the radio back on, a deceptively placid look on her face. Will’s hands tensed around the wheel. Though socially inept, he could certainly take a hint. He wasn’t sure why Abigail had agreed to come along in the first place, but it was clear that she didn’t wish to bond or give him what he wanted. Despite her passive aggressive behavior, he could sense a strong yearning for control. Was that what this was all about? Dismissing his desires in favor of taking the reins herself?

He snorted. It was going to take a lot more than choosing a radio station to regain her freedom. Even so, he let her have her way without a fight. He didn’t wish to quarrel.

After hours more of silence, Will exhaled in relief when he eased the car up a long, winding path toward their temporary residence. Despite Abigail’s indifference, he noticed her body angle toward the window, her bright, all-encompassing eyes taking everything in with curiosity. The dogs noticed the change in terrain as well and they, too, all nosed the glass with interest.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Will asked. His voice sounded tired and fragile, much like cracked glass.

Abigail said nothing. As much as he wanted to see her appreciation – a softening of her puckered brow or the lightening of her dark, shadowed eyes – she wouldn’t even dignify him with the sight of her profile. He was beginning to think she hated him.

The moment Will stopped the car, Abigail was out like a shot. Grabbing her belongings, she pushed far ahead of him and ignored the brigade of ecstatic, scampering dogs at her feet. The brush-off was starting to get old. Hadn’t they bonded (at least a little bit) at the hospital? Hadn’t they reached some sort of temporary understanding?

Hurt, Will unlocked the cabin and admitted his motley crew. Abigail didn’t seem impressed. Sliding her bag off her shoulder, she approached the first bedroom and peered inside, inspecting it carefully.

“Oh, uh…that’s the master suite,” Will shyly said. “Since I have so many dogs, I figured they could stay in-”

Abigail closed the door behind her, and none too gently.

“…there.”

Sighing, Will approached the oak slab and rapped his knuckles against the surface. “You hungry?”

“No thanks.”

“Ok, well…did you want me to help you unpack?”

Abigail opened the door again, her face appearing pinched and tired. “I’m ‘plenty old enough’ to do it myself, remember?” Again she shut the door, and despite the fact it hadn’t been slammed, the dismissal made it seem louder than a gunshot.

The low, pulsating hum of a headache began to form behind Will’s eye. Stung by her refusal, he turned and headed toward his (much smaller) room to unpack.


	2. Abigail's Relapse

When Abigail finally emerged from her bedroom, it was well after she was certain Will was gone. She'd spent all morning listening to him puttering around in the kitchen, banging pots and pans and making an exceptional amount of noise. She figured he'd been trying to wake her up, hoping that they could bond over the breakfast he'd cooked. But when it became painfully clear that she wasn't coming out, he'd fed her portion to his ecstatic pack of dogs, the canines chewing noisily outside her bedroom door.

With her head bent and eyes downcast, Abigail made her way into the kitchen to see what she could scrounge up. In the cupboards she found box after box of cereal (Will apparently meant it when he said they'd be out there for months), but she ended up settling on scrambled eggs and toast. It was a simple meal that reminded her of home…of when times had been simpler and she hadn't been waging war with her father. Though hard for outsiders to believe, he hadn't always been murderous and cruel. When she was little, he'd catch her if she fell, treat her various scrapes and cuts with kisses, and valiantly slay the imaginary creatures in her closet. No, Abigail thought – Garrett Jacob Hobbs hadn't always been a monster. She figured that he had to have been taken over by something dark and all-consuming, much like a malignant growth. No other option made sense.

After finishing her breakfast, Abigail grabbed her coffee and went out onto the wrap-around porch. They were up on a hill, so it felt as if she were in some sort of high-rise apartment, her lips curving upward as she breathed in the sultry summer air. A bird twittered gaily in a nearby pine.

Abigail sighed. She wanted to disappear into the horizon…disappear far, far beyond the treeline and never return. She didn't belong there… Will was trying, but she had a suspicion that he didn't really want her company. And why would he? She was the daughter of a serial killer he'd successfully caught and killed, and she, in turn, should want to be elsewhere since he'd killed her own flesh a blood. Some days Abigail felt indebted to Will and genuinely wanted him to be her friend, but then other days – days like today – she loathed him and wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"Hi!"

Abigail lurched, her mug tumbling over the railing and down onto the weedy embankment. Immediately sullen, she lifted her gaze and saw Will waving to her, a cap on his head and a string of fish slung over his shoulder.

"I caught us lunch…and probably also dinner," he said, unmistakably pleased. "You like fish?"

Abigail chewed her lip, not wanting to be swayed by his infectious cheer. "I…it's alright," she finally said.

Clomping up the porch steps, Will removed his cap and smiled at her. "I'm sure you would've preferred venison, but I'm afraid I'm not much of a hunter."

"That string of fish says otherwise," she coolly said. In that moment she resented Will – _hated_ him for assuming she wanted what she'd lost. She didn't need a goddamn replacement life, and she most _certainly_ didn't need a replacement father!

"I missed you at breakfast this morning."

Abigail's eyes snapped up, noting how Will's pride had suddenly transformed into a painful shyness. He twisted his cap between his hands, glancing at her every few seconds, only to dart his eyes away if he thought he'd held her gaze for too long.

"I was tired," she lied.

Will nodded, considering this. "Well, you had a long day yesterday… If I wasn't such an early riser, I probably would've taken advantage of my bed, too. It's made with rope supports and feather down, by the way – they don't make beds like that anymore."

Abigail wrinkled her nose, wondering why he thought she'd give a damn about the history of beds. Turning away from him, she hugged herself around the middle and gazed back out at the lush, abundant greenery.

"Did you eat?"

She sighed visibly.

Undeterred, Will continued, "We don't want the fish to spoil, so I plan on cooking it all and freezing the leftovers. If you'd like, you can help out." Catching the tension in Abigail's shoulders, he softly said, "Or you can just watch…it's up to you."

"No thanks."

Trying to ignore the heaviness in his heart, Will nodded and moved toward the door. If Abigail had been watching, she would've seen the bright, warm enthusiasm drain right from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

When Abigail came back inside, she found Will hovering over the stove, frying the remainder of his fish in a skillet. He was shirtless and sweating faintly, pausing every so often to swat at an errant fly.

Abigail gaped at him. Though normally a half-naked man wouldn't upset her, the thought of seeing his exposed, jagged scar tissue made her tremble. Oblivious to her scrutiny, Will turned slightly and began cutting into a fish on the butcher block. When the raw, uncooked innards came spilling out, Abigail couldn't help but gasp. Red…there was so much _red!_

Clapping a hand over her scar – _she had to stop the bleeding!_ – Abigail took off and went racing for the safety of her room, the banging door causing Will to lurch back in surprise.

"…Abigail?"

 _"Go away!"_ she screamed, a noticeable tremor in her voice.

Abandoning the stove, Will wiped his hands on his slacks and knocked on the door. "Abigail?" he tried again, though much gentler this time.

"No, no, please _don't!"_

"Abby, I'm coming in…"

"NO!"

Ignoring her pleas, Will entered the master suite and found her cowering on her bed, sobbing piteously into her bent knees. Her hands were gripping her ankles tightly enough to bruise.

Cautiously, Will approached her as if trying to assuage a wild animal. "What's wrong, huh? I'm not going to hurt you…"

Abigail lifted her head, peering up at him with wide, distrusting eyes. "The knife…where is it?"

"The knife?" Will instantly felt his heart sink, angry with himself for not having thought of that as a trigger. Trying to appear reassuring, he sank down onto the bed and promised, "It's in the kitchen – you're safe now, ok?" When he reached out for her, Abigail flinched and struck his hand.

"Don't touch me!"

"Abby, I'm not going to hurt you…"

"Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't _touch_ me!" Almost feral, she continuously hit, smacked and punched at his upper body, the nails on her right hand snagging him soundly across the cheek. Will flinched back in shock.

Abigail's mouth fell open, her vision temporarily blinded by tears. "I…I didn't mean…I just…" Covering her face with her hands, a high-pitched sob caught in her throat and she sank forward, feeling Will's fingers brush through her hair as she wept into her bedding.

"It's alright," he soothed. "You were just scared…"

"Oh, please, Will," she miserably sobbed, _"please_ don't send me back… I didn't mean it! I swear I didn't mean to hurt you, I just-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey, it's alright," Will cut in, gently lifting her up against his side. His expression was grave as he asked, "How could you even think that? After all we've been through, why would I ever send you away?"

She sniffled, staring gloomily down at her knees.

Rubbing her back in several soft, rounded arcs, Will listened to her hiccupping breaths and brushed the hair back from her face. "My cheek will heal, Abigail – it's _you_ I'm worried about. If I didn't want to help you get better, I never would've brought you out here."

Abigail wiped her nose with the back of her hand, trembling. At this distance, she could feel the body heat coming from his bare torso, reminding her of the agony that had started her fit in the first place.

"You think you'll be ok?"

Abigail nodded, breathlessly twisting her hands. She couldn't talk to Will about her fears – she just _couldn't_ – though a strong part of her genuinely wanted to. Thinking back to her confession in Hannibal's kitchen, she couldn't help but recall how good unburdening everything had felt. But the problem with that sort of burden was that was exactly what she would become: a burden. She'd be damned if she relied on Will for anything.

Turning away from him, Abigail rubbed her eyes and drew a breath. "I…I'm ok now. I think I just need a nap."

"Yeah, sure," Will agreed. "Do you need anything?"

Abigail shook her head, lying down and burrowing under the covers. Will smiled at her fondly. In that moment she reminded him of a small child, her body curling in the fetal position as she avoided his gaze. Oh, why did her violent fits only make her dearer to him? Was he a glutton for punishment? Some sort of masochist? Because surely she would never return his affections…


	3. A Turn for the Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail's condition worsens.

When Will finally gathered the nerve to enter Abigail’s room, he was carrying a tray with an assortment of breakfast foods. She took one look at him, wrinkled her nose, and then rolled back over in contempt.

“Abigail, you need to eat…”

“Why?” she coolly asked. As much as it chilled her, even when she’d been under her father’s oppressive thumb, she’d at least had an important role to play – a one true purpose. Out here in these lonely, endless woods, she didn’t serve as anything but Will’s latest pet project.

Will closed his eyes. This wasn’t going as he’d planned, but then again, what had he expected? Bonding and civility after all that had transpired? He had an irritating habit of expecting others to just _see_ things his way, even when he knew that was next to impossible. Abigail Hobbs was still a child – he had to stop expecting so much from her, but it wasn’t easy when she stared at him with those huge, worldly blue eyes. There was something behind that innocent gaze… Something older, something wiser. Something both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

In spite of himself, he wondered what Hannibal had seen when he’d returned her gaze. But rather than dwell on that monster, Will sternly tried again, “Abigail, you really _do_ need to eat something. It’ll help you feel better.”

She snorted. “Just leave it on the nightstand.”

“I’m not leaving until I see you eat something.”

That did it. Furiously throwing her bedspread off her legs, Abigail lurched up and smacked the tray out of his hand, sending the eggs, bacon, and juice hurtling against the wall in a splattered mess. “I don’t know _how_ many times I have to tell you this, but you are _not_ my father!” she seethed. “ _Stop_ telling me what to do, Will! I’ll eat when I _want_ to eat – now leave me alone!”

Pale and trembling, Will quietly bent down and began to pick up the pieces of broken glass and ruined breakfast. On the one hand, she was finally speaking to him again… It had been at least two days since she’d uttered a word, and what felt like even _longer_ since she’d come out of her room. He had to keep using his master key to unlock her door.

Oh, why did she hate him so much? Had Hannibal somehow poisoned her to him? Did she blame him for everything that had happened?

Sighing, Will lifted his head. “Abigail, I just want you to know that-”

“I’m getting a shower,” she muttered, now striding past him. The fabric of her soft, sheer robe whispered against his shoulder as she moved.

The door slammed and Will pressed the heel of his palm into his eye, trying to grind away the dull, painful headache flaring up inside his skull.

 

* * *

 

A pale, bare leg stepped beneath the sprinkling showerhead, and Abigail lurched slightly from the surprise of scalding hot water. After turning the handles to a much nicer temperature, she submerged herself and ducked her head beneath the rushing spigot. It felt oddly peaceful… She’d gone a few days without bathing for fear of Will wanting to talk.

Abigail rubbed her face and smoothed back her hair, now turning around so that the onslaught of water pelted her backside. Closing her eyes, she scrubbed her arms and felt errant water trickle down into her mouth. Irritated, she promptly blew it from her lips. But the more she blew, the more water seemed to come pouring in, her eyes snapping open in time to see showers of blood raining down upon her body.

Frantic, Abigail began to scrub the dark liquid from her torso, but only succeeded in smearing the blood like thick, permanent paint. She shrieked, staggering forward. She kicked and swatted at the air, dry sobs catching in her throat as the blood trickled down her body and pooled around her feet.

Wildly moving to turn off the spigot, she came clamoring out of the shower looking like a crime scene. Oh God, there was so much blood! She’d never get the smell out of her hair!

With tears streaking her face, Abigail stumbled over to the sink and peered up into the foggy mirror. Nothing but bleary steam greeted her senses, so she wiped off the condensation with her bloody hand, quivering as she searched her reflection once more. But what she saw wasn’t her… Abigail’s wide, panicked blue eyes turned into a pair much kinder and softer in appearance, and a long, oval face surrounded by dark, pretty curls followed suit. Abigail gasped, seeing Alana Bloom’s face gasp, too. And before Abigail could even think to speak, Alana gave a shrill, piercing scream that rattled through her very core, blood now seeping out of the woman’s eyes, nose and lips as strongly as an inkwell.

“NO!” Abigail sobbed. “No, no, _no!”_

Tearing away from the sight, she ripped open the bathroom door and went streaking (quite literally) through the area adjoining the kitchen and living room.

Will was reading a newspaper when she came barreling through, her mournful sobs causing him to instinctively lurch up from his seat. “…Abigail?” He swallowed, noting her unmistakable nudity before she flew out the door and into the expansive, shield-like wilderness.

After grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, Will briskly followed her path until he, too, was crashing through the underbrush in the morning light. “Abigail?!”

Her sobs echoed back to him, and before long he found her huddled up beneath a fir tree sitting on a long, sturdy log. Instantly, he draped the blanket around her shoulders and covered any indecency.

“Are…are you alright?” Will’s eyes doubtfully scanned her face, which was as pale and unresponsive as the rest of her. Having a seat on the log, he carefully reached out and pressed a hand to the small of her back. “What happened, huh? What’s got you so scared?” He drew a breath, appearing pained. “Don’t you feel safe here?”

Abigail lowered her eyes. “I don’t feel safe anywhere… You’ll have to tell me what that’s like.” Loosely hugging her leg, she inspected her skin for blood and found nothing but pale, svelte flesh. She closed her eyes, upset and shivering. “I want to leave… I don’t belong here.”

“I know it’s hard, but…but we can’t give up,” Will feebly said. “Please, Abigail, promise me you’ll at least _try_ to give this place a chance. I want to see you well again.”

She snorted. _“Do_ you? Hannibal once told me you’re dangerous.” With her large, all-seeing eyes, she glanced up at him and provoked, “He said that killing made you feel in control… Do you think you’ll kill again? Do you think you’ll kill _me?”_ Her gaze grew dark and penetrating, honing in on Will’s every movement. “I’m the living source of your trauma,” she persisted. “Wouldn’t it feel good to take me out? To see me just… _disappear?”_

Will trembled, feeling as if sand had entered his lungs. Why would Hannibal tell her such a thing? Or maybe Abigail had just guessed? Doctor-patient confidentiality his ass!

Shaking his head, he earnestly explained, “N-no, Abigail, that…that’s not true. How could you ever think I brought you out here to…to…?” Unable to finish the horrific thought, he drew a breath and exhaled, frustrated.

Overhead, the rapid, staccato drilling of a woodpecker echoed faintly through the trees. Will swallowed nervously. It pained him to accept defeat, but the mixture of Abigail’s scorn and resentment had proven too much for him. She didn’t want his help…she didn’t want his friendship, though perhaps a woman’s touch could give her what he so sorely lacked?

Instinctively, Will’s heart throbbed. The first faces that materialized into his subconscious were Alana and Beverly, both dear friends who hadn’t deserved their gruesome fates. He chewed his cheek. Though they would’ve been his first choice, perhaps Freddie Lounds would be able to…? _No._ He wouldn’t even allow himself to entertain the idea. Despite their brief reconciliation, he didn’t want her anywhere near Abigail (let alone trapped with them for three whole months). Maybe Bella Crawford…? No, absolutely not. He felt selfish for even thinking of her, given how the very little time she had left was dedicated to Jack.

Will sighed, rubbing his neck. That only left Margot Verger… Though polite, well-informed, articulate, and exemplary in every way, he didn’t want her brother sniffing around, were she to stay with them for extended periods of time. But without Margot, who else was there? Will could never send Abigail back… She’d already pleaded with him to stay, so if he returned her to the hospital, all of his assurances would become lies. She’d never trust him again.

Will rolled his lips together. Now folding his hands in his lap, he looked up at the sky and anxiously tapped his foot. He knew it would be smart to be discreet – given Abigail’s fragile state of mind, it seemed best to pretend that Margot was a friend visiting for the weekend. He scoffed at himself. All of this deception was beginning to give him a headache.

“Will?”

He paused, fidgeting as Abigail rose from the log. “I…I’m ready to go inside now.”

Will nodded, relieved. Rising so he could escort her back to the cabin, he turned her lithe, shivering body against his flank and rubbed her shoulders. She seemed to need him in that moment… He felt ashamed for being pleased.


	4. Plan B

It was early afternoon when a series of brisk, hollow knocks echoed through the cozy cabin.

Abandoning his coffee, Will nearly tripped over his barking dogs as he made a beeline for the door. "Just a minute!" he called. Now twisting the knob, he opened the door to reveal Margot's sophisticated elegance. Will appraised her cream, form-fitting blouse and pencil skirt with amusement, trying his best not to smirk. She wasn't exactly dressed for camping.

"Hi," Margot greeted. "I could sense your distress signal from over a mile away."

Will chuckled, low and husky. His cheeks were pink and he found he couldn't quite look her in the eye. Even after all this time, the level of intimacy they'd shared ashamed him. He hated to think she felt the same, given how she was prepared to spend (or rather,  _endure)_  a weekend with him and his ward. Margot had agreed to come up every other weekend since it aligned with the charity drives she'd used to host. She'd stopped participating ages ago, but had kept up the charade so she could still escape Mason.

"Where's the kid?" Margot asked, stooping over to pet Will's dogs.

"Oh, uh…in her room.  _Abigail!_  Come on out, we have a guest!"

Margot rose and stared at him reproachfully. "You  _did_  tell her I was coming, right? This isn't an ambush?"

"I gave her the gist," Will promised. "The problem with Abigail is I doubt she ever listens to what I say."

Like an actress who awaits the proper cue, Abigail chose that exact moment to enter the scene, her expression dour as she challengingly folded her arms.

Margot gaped at her. Why, this wasn't a child at all! The way Will had described her over the phone, she'd been expecting a young, impressionable teenager, not some glum, jaded adult already dead-set in her ways. It pained her to see this girl, so young and broken, because it felt like gazing into a mirror. Abigail Hobbs was herself not too long ago…scarred, browbeaten, lonesome, and without a single person to trust. Margot was determined to change this girl's path. Nobody deserved to share her fate.

"Hi, I'm Margot Verger," she greeted, extending a gloved hand.

Abigail stared at her warily, knowing that any friend of Will's had to be a touch off in the head. Even so, this woman was the most elegant person she'd ever seen…almost like royalty, she mused.

Ignoring the offered handshake, Abigail simply said, "Hi," and made her way over to the kitchen table.

Will winced. "Abigail, don't be rude… Margot drove a very long way to get here."

Abigail shot him a withering look. He could almost hear her thoughts screaming  _"You're not my dad!"_ from across the room. And she was right…he  _wasn't_  her father, but he was determined to be whatever she needed. Didn't most girls need and desire a family? Somewhere to belong? It could be a very lonesome feeling, not belonging. He knew that firsthand.

To his relief, Margot seemed unruffled as she joined Abigail at the table. "I like your shirt," she complimented.

Abigail looked down, scoffing in disbelief. "I'm afraid this top doesn't come in silk or cashmere," she snidely said.

"Abby!" Will exclaimed, horrified. What was the matter with her? He'd grown to expect this sort of behavior with himself, but why Margot? Abigail didn't even know her!

He felt a touch on his wrist and looked down, seeing Margot's passive face staring back at him. "Why don't you go catch us dinner, Will? You always brag about being so resourceful, so I expect you to put your money where your mouth is."

There was still plenty of fish leftover thanks to Abigail's episode, but Will didn't bother saying anything on the subject. He knew Margot was trying to get his ward alone.

Plastering a tight, ill-fitting smile on his face, Will bobbed his head and agreed, "Yeah, sure… I'll be back in a little while."

The moment the front door closed behind him, Abigail folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. "So let me guess: Will invited you out here to 'fix' me and stop my fits?" She appraised the other woman scornfully. "What could  _you_  know about anything? You're just some rich bitch with a meat packaging plant."

"Cut the shit, Abigail – you're not fooling anyone, least especially me."

Abigail stared back at Margot, shocked. She hadn't expected that sort of language to come from that pretty mouth.

"You mind if I smoke?"

Abigail dumbly shook her head, still too stunned to form a proper response. Margot unearthed a lighter after her pack of cigarettes, now placing a slim stick between her full, painted lips. Margot had always detested smoking, but decided to take it up after Mason's accident. She'd heard that secondhand smoke killed more ruthlessly than firsthand. She'd gladly take one for the team for her dear, dear brother.

As translucent grey ribbons festooned heavily through the air, Abigail shifted her weight to her elbows, observing the other woman carefully. "If you're not here to help, what's in it for you?"

Margot shrugged, blowing a ring of smoke around her head. "I  _was_  invited here to help, but Will doesn't know what he's dealing with. In case it wasn't obvious, he's not the most well-versed when it comes to women and their needs."

Abigail snorted.

Eyes flicking up to the skeptical face, Margot tapped her cigarette onto a used paper plate. "I was a lot like you at your age…you use your words as a shield, keeping people out so they can never get too close. You may think you're guarding your heart, but trust me…you're not. I've missed many an opportunity thanks to my insecurities."

Abigail's eyes darkened. "Yeah? Well did you ever have your throat slit by two men you thought you loved? By two men you thought loved  _you?"_

Margot's expression remained cool and unchanging, though there was a flicker of thought behind her eyes. "No," she steadily said, "but I've been raped and abused by my own brother. Does that qualify?"

Abigail's mouth fell open, shocked by the frankness of the other woman's words. She'd recited them as if she'd been relaying the weather. "I…I'm sorry," was all she could think to say.

Margot shrugged, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "We all have our skeletons, Abigail. It's just that some of us take that pain and use it for good."

"Have you?"

She smiled wryly, almost appearing resigned within the bright overhead lights. "No…I haven't. I guess I tried with the foundling kids, but my heart was never in it…probably 'cause I knew what Mason was doing to…" Trailing off, her brow knit and she furiously drove her cigarette into the paper plate, crushing it into extinction. Apparently this was just serving to remind her of her own faults instead of helping Abigail. How selfish she was. After all, wasn't that why she was trying to save Abigail in the first place? To make  _herself_ feel better?

"Margot?"

She sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "Sorry…sometimes bad memories can really pack a punch."

Abigail nodded, appearing pale and small as she picked at a chipped groove on the table. "Will's the reason I'm alive, you know…both times. Did he tell you that?"

"Oh, yeah?" Margot's eyes remained aloof, indifferent, and lacking judgment. Abigail liked that about her eyes.

Folding her hands in her lap, Abigail curled her toes and shrugged. "Knowing that, you'd think it'd be easy to talk to him…to be grateful and maybe even love him a little, but I don't. I feel nothing inside…just emptiness. He makes me feel awful, 'cause I know I'm a burden to him."

"Have you ever asked him how he feels?"

She shook her head. "He's not good with emotions, remember? I know I'd just make him uncomfortable…after he killed my dad, he was scared he'd turn into him or something. I dunno, it was weird… I can't remember how Hannibal explained it."

Margot's eyes flashed at the mentioning of Dr. Lecter, but other than that, she gave no sign of recognition. Wishing she hadn't extinguished her cigarette, she leaned back and crossed her legs. "If Will thought you were a burden, he would've left you at the hospital."

"No, he wouldn't have. He feels guilty about me…like everything in my life is his unspoken obligation." Abigail's eyes watered. "What I needed at the time was a friend, but he wouldn't give that to me. I found an equal in Hannibal, instead. That's why it was so easy to shut Will out." She cupped her chin in her palm, looking sad and remorseful. "Hannibal didn't treat me like a kid…like someone who was helpless and needed rescuing. I liked that. I thought maybe he'd help me find my independence."

Margot sighed through her nose. "Independence isn't gained through someone else's help, you know. Experience hardens us… If you want my opinion, you were probably already independent when Will saved your life. He just made you feel helpless since he has a weird fetish for nurturing things. Must be why he has so many dogs."

As if in answer to her remark, a cold, wet nose pressed against her knee under the table.

Abigail smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes. "How can I get him to stop, then? To give me room to breathe?"

Margot smirked. "I'll bet Will didn't think this would turn into an intervention against  _himself,_  but since you're my top priority, I'll work on him if you want."

"Really?"

"Of course. I know how much of a pain in the ass men can be – it's why I've sworn them off."  _Among other reasons._

When Margot looked up this time, Abigail's smile was genuine. It filled her with pleasure to know she was the cause of that smile – that she'd given this poor, broken girl a reason to hope again.

 

* * *

 

When Will finally returned, he found both Margot and Abigail huddled around the kitchen table, whispering and laughing over a game of cards. It was odd seeing Margot Verger so jovial, but what was even stranger was seeing the bright, rejuvenated look in Abigail's eyes as she giggled, pointing gleefully at her winning hand.

In spite of himself, Will felt his chest tighten. Shouldn't he be happy? Wasn't this what he wanted?

No, he realized. He'd wanted Abigail's warmth and affection for  _himself,_  not to share it with a total stranger. What had Margot said to her? What did she have that he didn't? Was it the appeal of a fresh start that had lured Abigail in, or something else?

Lingering awkwardly in the doorway, he only responded when Margot waved to him from the table.

"Will! Come over here so we can beat your ass at cards!"

Will wanted to decline, but when he was greeted by Abigail's pleasant, encouraging smile, his legs took on a life of their own and led him over to the vacant seat. Sitting to Margot's left, he now had a front row view of Abigail's newfound ebullience. She laughed every so often, leaning over to whisper something in Margot's ear. When the two fell into peals of laughter, Will felt as if he was purposely being ignored. In all his days, he never thought he'd be jealous of a lesbian. Though should he really be surprised? Margot had wanted to be a mother, and her desire had shone no stronger than in this very moment. If their child had survived, was this a glimpse of what his fatherhood would've been like? Him, sitting on the sidelines while Margot stole the show?

 _'Stop it,'_  Will internally seethed.  _'You should be grateful… Look at how happy Abigail is!'_

And indeed, she did seem happy – almost as if all of her horrible, indelible burdens had been lifted from her fragile shoulders. It bothered him that he couldn't be happy for her joy…that his ego  _needed_  her to look at him the way she was currently looking at Margot.

"Will?"

He glanced up, startled.

"Do you wanna deal this time?"

Abigail looked at him steadily, hand poised as if ready to slide him the cards.

Catching Margot's gaze – he could've sworn it was saying "Don't fuck this up" – Will smiled and nodded, extending his hand.

Abigail appeared surprised, but flashed him a quick smile before shyly ducking her head, her hands trembling a bit as she passed him the deck. It hurt Will to see how much she feared him. He was a fool to think she could ever look at him fondly…monsters weren't meant to be loved and adored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got chapters 5-9 already (mostly) written up, but I'm afraid I'm being a hoarder. I tend to do that with my writing sometimes, but at least you now know I've got a steady amount already finished. Sometimes I can convinced to be less stingy, but...yeah. I'm a hoarder. haha This was my first time writing Margot, and I really enjoyed it. Hopefully you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!


	5. Breaking Boundaries

It was Margot’s last day for the week, and Abigail wanted to make it count. In all her life, she hadn’t had a true friend except for Marissa… A part of her was afraid of waking up one day and finding Margot impaled on a set of bone-white antlers. The thought made her shiver.

Slipping in through the backdoor, Abigail padded into the hallway and paused, hearing the low hum of voices coming from the living room.

“Will, you don’t get it,” she heard Margot say. “Abigail won’t talk to you ‘cause she thinks you’re trying to replace her old life. She doesn’t want that.”

“What she wants and what she needs are two different things. Believe me, I would know.”

“Oh, really? Were you a young woman who nearly died at the hands of your father?”

Will sighed. “No, of course not… What I meant was I traveled a lot as a kid, and I really wish I would’ve had a strong, stable family unit.”

“Will, I don’t think you’re hearing me: Abigail’s _father_ tried to kill her, Hannibal Lecter _pretended_ to be her father and tried to kill her, and now _you_ are trying to horn in as a surrogate, too. Do you see why she might not be too keen on that idea?”

“I want to go swimming.”

Will and Margot looked up, startled, only to spot Abigail standing behind them in the entryway. Her expression was blank, thus giving very little indication of whether or not she’d heard anything.

“I’ll take you,” Will offered.

“No thanks,” Abigail declined. “Since it’s Margot’s last day, I was hoping it could be just the two of us.”

Ok, so she’d _definitely_ heard everything. Goddammit. Had he just undone all of Margot’s hard work?

Seemingly unfazed, Margot rose from the couch and agreed, “I’ll go get my swimsuit. When I’m dressed, I’ll come meet you by the lake.”

Abigail nodded, bright-eyed and chipper once more. After she’d left the room, Margot said to Will, “Don’t worry, she’ll come around. Just give me a chance to talk to her.”

Will swallowed, barely hearing her. He was far too preoccupied with the pounding of his own heart.

 

* * *

 

“Ugh, the water’s _freezing!”_

Abigail’s teeth chattered and she clamored up the dirt embankment, rubbing her arms for warmth. “Are you coming in?”

“With a rousing endorsement like that? Not likely.” Wearing a wry smile, Margot patted the empty spot beside her and waited. “I talked to Will this morning.”

“Hmph, so I heard… He sounds as stubborn and narrow-minded as ever.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on him – he really _is_ trying, you know.”

Abigail shook her head. “You’re wrong – Will doesn’t give a damn about me.”

“You didn’t hear the beginning of that conversation,” Margot insisted. “He loves you, Abigail. He didn’t exactly say the words, but I can tell. I’ve witnessed enough lies to know the real deal when I see it.”

“Well if he ‘loves’ me, why can’t he let me go? Isn’t that a big part of loving someone?”

Margot sighed, suddenly craving a cigarette. “Not exactly, no. I’d like to think my brother loves me, even if it’s in his own wrong, fucked up way. Some people just don’t know the meaning of loss… Mason’s one of them. He’d never be able to let me go even if he wanted to. And Will?” She shrugged. “I think he’s turned to you as some sort of anchor. You were there during the most traumatic moment of his life, so without you he’ll drift off-course…or worse.”

Abigail frowned, resting her chin on her knees. “So in other words, I’m back to being a burden…”

“No, of course not. You both just have a unique way of dealing with grief, that’s all.” Margot smiled, trying to sound encouraging. “I told him everything you asked me to, by the way – but in order for this to work, you need to meet each other halfway. There can’t be any more of this ‘one way street’ crap.”

Abigail winced. “Do you really think I was being unfair?”

“Well in your defense, Will kind of deserved it. That whole ‘I know what’s best for you’ assumption is bullshit. At the time he barely knew you – hell, he _still_ barely knows you, but you can always change that.”

Abigail’s face grew pensive, but there was a soft beacon of hope in her eyes. “Yeah…maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right – I’m a Verger.” Now rising from her perch, Margot playfully shoved the girl and cried, “Last one in has to cook dinner!”

Shrieking, Abigail leapt to her feet and went chasing after the other woman, the two laughing as they splashed through the freezing cold water.

 

* * *

 

These days, Will had taken to sleeping nude during the stiflingly hot summer nights. Such was the case on this particular night, for his skin had stuck to his bedclothes until, in a fit of frustration, he’d removed them and tossed them into a sweaty heap on the floor.

Rolling over onto his side, Will fluffed his pillow and hugged it against his throbbing skull. The heat coupled with his stress was making the pain worse than usual.

“Will?”

He lurched, stunned into awareness. The bed compressed, and then Abigail was there crawling across the mattress, reaching out to him through the dark.

Blinking the panicked fog from his mind, Will self-consciously moved away from her, terrified by her sudden need for intimacy.

Taking his retreat as acceptance instead of a snub, Abigail burrowed under his thin sheets and lifted her knees, curling up as she reached for him once more.

Will swallowed. Careful to keep his hips away from her, he allowed her to grab onto his arms and pull him close. Why hadn’t she gone to Margot? Why had she sought comfort from him, a man whose affection she barely seemed to value?

Granted, Will had noticed a change in Abigail during dinner that evening, but he never would’ve thought that’d be enough to merit a reaction like _this._

“I’m sorry,” Abigail whispered. “I just…I had a nightmare…”

Ok, so _that_ made sense. Hannibal had once told him that when Abigail got scared, her parents had let her sleep between them until she’d calmed down. Will assumed this was no different.

Tilting his hips further away from her, Will allowed Abigail to press her face into his throat and lock her pale, trembling arms around his neck. Her soft, hitching breaths tickled his skin as she shivered all over.

“You wanna talk about it?” Will cringed at his voice, hating how feeble and insecure it sounded.

Abigail shook her head, tightening her hold around his neck.

 _‘Baby steps,’_ Will told himself. _‘Don’t force her.’_ Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rubbed her back in soft, soothing circles. To his delight, her fitful breaths calmed and she melted deeper into his embrace. She needed him… She actually _needed_ him!

Unable to help himself, a smile broke across Will’s face and he pressed his cheek into her hair, smiling wider still as Abigail snuggled further against his chest. It felt so good to be wanted.


	6. Alone Again

When Abigail left Will's room early that morning, she found Margot lugging her suitcase through the kitchen. "Are you leaving already?"

"Soon," Margot promised. "I'm not one for long goodbyes."

"Oh…" Appearing uncomfortable, Abigail pressed, "Can I ask you something?"

Margot immediately set down her baggage. Something about the girl's tone had sounded serious, so she agreed, "Yeah, of course…what's on your mind?"

"Well…I slept with Will last night."

"You did  _what?"_

"No, no, not like  _that!"_  Blushing furiously, Abigail twisted her hands and gave a nervous laugh. "When I was little – well, when I was older, too – my parents would let me share their bed when I got scared. Last night I got real upset, so I went into Will's room and…well…old habits die hard, I guess."

Margot stared at her evenly. "What's your question, Abigail?"

"Well, this morning I woke up and felt something weird, so I lifted the sheet and…uh…" She blushed even deeper, her eyes wide and imploring. "I-I saw…um…"

"His dick?"

Abigail balked, even more humiliated upon hearing it voiced aloud. "Yes," she weakly said. "I-I swear I didn't know he was naked when I crawled into bed with him, and he doesn't seem like the type to strip while I'm sleeping, so…um…" She bit her lip. "Is it weird that I thought it was gross-looking? I mean, I  _am_  supposed to like that sort of thing, aren't I?"

Unable to help it, Margot threw her head back in a loud, boisterous laugh. "Trust me, Abby, I am  _not_  the right person to ask about dicks. But for what it's worth, no, I don't think you're being weird. It's a known fact that men have uglier bodies than women. I mean, why do you think so many artists flock to the female form? It's 'cause most people don't want to look at a hairy – and sometimes veiny – pillar of flesh."

Abigail breathed a laugh, gradually relaxing. "I'm glad I didn't wake him up, 'cause I dunno how I would've talked myself out of that one. Like, 'oh hi, Will, I'm just admiring your assets – don't mind me!'"

"I wouldn't say 'admire' is the right word…"

"Well…he was kind of . . .  _big."_

_"Abby!"_

She laughed, avoiding Margot's playful swat.

"What's so funny?"

The two immediately fell silent, watching Will as he sleepily padded into the kitchen. He squinted his bleary eyes at them and scratched the back of his head.

"Oh, uh…Abigail was helping me pack," Margot explained. "Sorry if we woke you."

"You're leaving?" He tried not to sound as hopeful as he felt.

"In a little bit, yes. You know I can't stay longer than my allotted two and a half days." Now looking to him seriously, she asked, "Can I talk to you real quick? I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yeah, sure."

"In private?"

"Um…ok." Bemused, Will spared Abigail a curious glance, then led Margot off into one of the back rooms. Once they were alone, he shut the door behind them and turned to her with worry in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"It's Abigail…I think she needs more than one setting to heal. You're doing a good job, but she needs variety."

Will bristled. "What are you proposing?"

"Mason and I will be hosting our annual fundraiser for the foundling homes, and I really think you two should come. There'll be great food, dancing, and beautiful gowns…like a fairytale."

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Margot, are you  _crazy?_  You know I don't want Abigail anywhere near your brother!"

"He's a paraplegic with half a face – what harm could he do? You and I will be there to protect her."

Will grimaced, beginning to pace. "If I say yes – and that's a  _big_  if – what would we do about clothes? I don't have the best salary in the world, so I can't afford eveningwear for the both of us."

Margot snorted. "Are you really too proud to ask for a favor? Leave the expenses to me. I'll send someone over with some gowns and tuxes later on this week. The ones you don't pick will be donated to charity."

Will sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You really think this'll be good for her?"

"Of course I do – would I have brought it up if I didn't?" Eyes softening, Margot said, "Every girl deserves to feel special, Will. When Abigail sees how beautiful she is, she'll be a changed woman. She  _needs_  that self-confidence."

"But-"

"Being oppressed all her life, she's never really had any self-esteem…help her find herself."

Will stared back at her, jaw working reflexively. Margot was right…Abigail  _did_  need to boost her self-confidence. He wanted her to see the beauty that he'd sensed the moment they met. Will had always admired Abigail's strength and courage, so it bothered him to see her giving up.

"Ok," he finally agreed, "I…I'll let her come to the fundraiser."

"Wonderful! I'll give you the full details later on."

Nodding, Will leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He could hear Margot returning to Abigail in the kitchen, his ward's shrieks of excitement reaching him as the two discussed the impending festivities. He hoped he was doing the right thing…

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Will and Abigail sat silently at the dinner table, poking at their half-eaten meals as both remained lost in their own thoughts. This was the first time they'd ever eaten alone together, but neither remarked on the significance. Down below, the dogs were curled up at their feet, hoping for a wayward scrap from their plates. When Will wasn't looking, Abigail discreetly tossed Winston a piece of chicken.

"Abigail?"

She lurched, thinking she'd been caught. "Um…yes?"

"Do you like it here?"

She furrowed her brows and shrugged. "Well sure, it's alright…"

"No, I mean…do you like it here? With me?"

Catching his gaze, Abigail felt alarmed by the deep, intense way he was looking at her. Carefully setting her fork off to the side, she cleared her throat and pretended to be interested in her napkin. Smoothed it out. Re-adjusted the corners. Listened passively to the sound of Will's clinking silverware.

"Abigail, you never answered my question."

"Well maybe that's 'cause I don't know what you're asking!" she irritably said.

"I want to know if you like living with me."

"Why? Are you ready to give me away?"

Will winced, setting his fork down with a clatter. "No, of course not…never that."

"Then what?"

"I…" He trailed off, pressing his lips together into a grim, helpless line. He didn't know why he was so fond of Abigail… When she'd cruelly scorned and dismissed him, he should've given up and accepted defeat, but he didn't…he  _couldn't._  One look into her eyes assured him he was making the right decision.

Chewing on his lip, he asked, "Can you please pass the salt?"

Abigail arced a brow. As she reached for the requested item, Will cursed his cowardice – cursed the fact he could never properly open up and dissect his feelings. Margot had said Abigail was a strong, capable woman, so why couldn't he agree? But then, maybe this was for the best… If Will stopped viewing Abigail as a child, his love would suddenly become ugly and perverse. He could never let that happen…he would lose her.

 

* * *

 

When Will got ready for bed that night, he made sure to pull on a lightweight shirt and boxers. He didn't need to subject Abigail (or himself) to the embarrassment of before.

But as Will laid there and the hours passed, it soon became clear that Abigail wasn't coming. He didn't want to acknowledge the disappointment he felt…didn't want to  _understand_  why not having her there beside him was so unsettling.

When he finally drifted off, Will was vaguely conscious of saying her name, soft and faint like a prayer.


	7. Impulses

"Hold it steady," Will urged, "like this…" Demonstrating on his own fishing pole, he showed Abigail the proper technique with an expert fluidity only a fisherman could possess.

Abigail eyed him skeptically, but decided to humor him and mimicked his motions.  _"Oh!"_

Hearing her cry, Will turned in alarm, but found her reeling back with brisk little jerks. The fish seemed ferociously stubborn, based on the amount of tension on her line.

In moments, Abigail had swung a large bluegill out in front of them, the fish flopping helplessly as it struggled against the hook. Abigail spared Will a simpering smile. "What was that you said earlier? About how I shouldn't feel bad if I can't catch anything?"

"Beginner's luck," Will huffed, though he was far from bitter. His heart raced upon seeing the bright, infectious warmth his favorite sport brought to her eyes. He selfishly wanted to see more. But the memory of how he'd felt earlier that morning made him falter, his cheeks flushing as he turned away from Abigail and her catch. He had rested well, and because of the very reasons his guest exasperated him: her short temper, her strong need for independence, and her complete unconcern for his feelings. Because of these things, Will had slept like a boy with a crush, tortured deeply with sensual, delicious sensations throughout. When he'd finally awoken he'd shivered, unsure of why he'd had such a dream about his own ward…a girl so insolent and cruel with words, yet capable of making his heart descend like an elevator long past its warranty. But Abigail was also a girl who had challenged Will, brought him out of himself, and had excited his nurturing impulses beyond the mundane and predictable.

Oh God, he was disgusting…he was truly  _warped._

"C'mon, Abigail," he softly urged. "Let me show you how to clean and prep your fish."

 

* * *

 

Once in the kitchen, Will was beginning to feel a little bit better. Setting the necessary utensils onto the counter, he waved Abigail over and explained, "This is a fillet knife. In order to skin the fish, we're going to cut down the middle of its back and loosen the skin around its fins." Pointing to some pliers, he added, "Afterwards, we'll take these and remove the skin from the head all the way to the tail. After that, we can take its head off."

Abigail scoffed. "Is this what you do with all your dates? Get them to chop off heads and sift through fish guts?"

Will stared at her, wide-eyed and shaken. Trying his best to ignore her remark, he placed a trembling hand on the small of her back and passed her the knife. "We'll do it together," he promised.

Abigail caught his reassuring tone and paused. Looking up at him, all prior warmth vanished as she recalled the spastic, volatile way she'd reacted the first time she saw him skin a fish. She blinked slowly, tasting bile in the back of her throat.

"C'mere," Will urged. Putting his hand over her wrist, he guided Abigail until the knife was poised behind the fish's head. Now applying pressure, he watched as the blade sank into the flesh and began cutting with slow, measured strokes.

"There, you see?" Will soothed. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Blood pooled onto the counter, but this time Abigail saw nothing but a gaping fish. She smiled in triumph. Slicing the blade toward the tail, she jimmied the handle and started loosening the skin from the muscle.

"You're a natural," Will said, smiling. Abigail beamed up at him, and for just a moment he lost his breath. She was so beautiful when she was happy – if unaware that anyone was watching, she had a soft, unjaded girlishness about her that tugged at his heart.

Unable to help it, Will relaxed his hold on Abigail's hand into something gentler – something far less firm and controlling. Rubbing his thumb over her knuckles in a soft, meditative caress, he sensed Abigail turning and raised his head. Despite the pain of eye contact, Will found himself easily (and willingly) returning her gaze, her wide, imploring eyes beckoning to him in a way that left him both shamed and wanting. She was his only hope…oh God, didn't she realize that? Didn't she know how much he needed her?

Encouraging Abigail to drop the knife, Will turned her toward him and slid his hand up into her hair. Her lips parted and he acted on the burning need inside of him, pressing his forehead to hers as he hovered his yearning mouth over her full, quivering lips.

"NO!"

Abigail's cry went off like a gunshot, startling Will as she staggered away from him. Palms outstretched defensively, she looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes brimming with tears.

Oh God, what had he done? What had he  _done?_

"Abigail," he choked. "Abby, I just…"

But she tore away from him, her sobs hitting him painfully as her footfalls pounded toward her room. A door slammed not long after, leaving Will with only the sound of his heart and the dull, ever-present loneliness.


	8. A Freed Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STOP INSPIRING ME SO MUCH (but don't ever stop), cuz I'm trying to show SOME self-restraint here! haha My goal is to update Mondays (and sometimes Thursdays, depending on how "giving" I'm feeling), but you guys are making it very, very hard to hoard my chapters! Especially since I'm seven chapters ahead and have room to drop another chapter here and there. Bad, readers...BAD! xD haha But seriously, I love you guys...here's another update!
> 
>  
> 
> **Mild sexual content warning.**

Abigail was frightened. Not of Will, per se, but because of the vicious threats that came hand-in-hand with kissing. The Hobbs household had always made it seem like some harsh, earth-shattering event would occur if she upturned the established order, but now there  _was_  no Hobbs household…there was only Abigail. And with this newfound independence, she was trying to assure herself that nothing bad would happen…that nothing would change just because Will had tried to kiss her.

Abigail bit her lip. Even though she'd escaped unscathed, she had to admit that her curiosities were piqued. In high school, she'd shared a quick, dry peck on the lips with a fellow classmate, but that was as far as her experiences went.

What was it like to be kissed – to  _really_  be kissed? Will was older, so he would know how to make her feel nice…how to make it raw and sensual like in the movies. With a shiver, she bent her knees and felt a pulsing ache between her thighs.

Slipping a hand beneath the waistband of her panties, Abigail shyly explored herself with careful, tentative strokes along her entrance. This should've been second nature to her – she should've  _known_  what it was like to touch herself, but she'd always been too ashamed to discover her own body. Her father deemed everything about sex sinful and ugly, but in that moment, Abigail didn't feel ugly anymore. She felt whole…reborn, almost, and as her thumb rubbed her clit and her fingers worked tirelessly between her legs, she found herself rapidly driven toward the edge of an unknown precipice.

Abigail whimpered and arched into her searching hand. Closing her eyes, Will's face suddenly appeared and she bit her lip, alarmed by the sensory overload of his imaginary fingers tracing down her stomach.

 _'Let go,'_  he gently coaxed.  _'Just let it all go…'_

Her leg muscles cramped up and she spasmed around her fingers, practically in tears from the beautiful, deliciously freeing sensation that was now singing through her veins. She arched her back, shaking and gasping as she drifted down from one of the most glorious things she'd ever felt. Why had her father wanted to rob her of that? To make her feel hopeless, scared and ugly about something that was supposed to be natural?

Wiping her hand on her shorts, Abigail laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Will was no longer beside her (fictitiously or otherwise), yet she still couldn't help but wonder about him. She hadn't seen him since their "almost kiss" in the kitchen…with her luck, he was probably angry with her.

 

* * *

 

Will sat staring blankly ahead at the wall, his jaw working and his elbows propped on the kitchen table. It was not lost on him how Abigail had locked herself in her room…how he'd spent 17 hours waiting and praying for her to come out of hiding. He'd gladly take it all back just so he could see her again. If he'd caused another relapse, he would never forgive himself.

Groaning, Will leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. His torment finally had a name: _Abigail._  The yearning boiled up within and clawed at him from the inside out, leaving him hollow and breathless with agitation. He just needed to speak with her…to apologize and let her know he hadn't meant it – that he'd just been driven by some strong, inexplicable urge to connect with someone. It didn't mean anything.

It  _didn't._

Finally convinced, Will rose from the table and strode toward Abigail's bedroom with purpose. To his surprise, the door was slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of light that he couldn't resist peeking into. He swallowed and leaned in closer. There, in the far corner of her room was Abigail, peering into a full-length mirror while digging into the makeup bag Margot had given her. The lipstick she chose was a coral red. Applying it with careful, even strokes, Abigail leaned back and appraised her reflection once more. She smiled shyly, then gave a playful, coquettish pucker like she'd seen in commercials.

Will couldn't help but smile, though the chuckle that yearned to escape was promptly repressed. His eyes softened with fondness and he leaned against the molding, observing her with fascination since he'd rarely been witness to this sort of thing. But to his confusion, Abigail placed her makeup off to the side and turned her attention to her robe. She took the ties and slid the garment off her pale shoulders, baring herself completely before Will even had the chance to look away. He swallowed, stunned as she shyly basked in her blushing nudity.

Oh God, why couldn't he look away?  _Why couldn't he look away?_

Horrified, Will clutched the doorframe as Abigail hesitantly touched her breasts. They were small, but firm with pale pink nipples, her expression cautious and full of curiosity as she appraised her reflection. If Will didn't know any better, he would've thought she'd never truly looked at herself before. Why was that? Hadn't most young girls (and boys) already explored themselves at her age?

Abigail slid her hands down the curve of her hips, then turned and looked at herself over her shoulder. By this point, Will was gripping the doorframe so tightly that his bones ached. This should be private…it was  _wrong_  of him to watch her, and it was  _wrong_  of him to find her so beautiful.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Will's dogs howled and he lurched away from the door, startled and heart racing. Quickly striding past the kitchen, he weaved his way through the barking brigade and twisted the doorknob.  _'Breathe, Will. Goddammit, breathe!'_

Cheeks still faintly pink, he pulled back the door and revealed a blonde, middle-aged woman holding several garment bags. "Hi there, sugar!" she greeted. "I'm Trisha Loveday, Margot's personal assistant. I've brought a bunch of suits and gowns for you to sift through."

Will balked.  _"Really?_  Wow, that was fast. Uhh…" He shrugged and gestured behind him, feeling foolish. "Go ahead and set up in the living room. I'll…I'll go get Abigail."

"Oh shucks, I've heard so much about her!" Trisha chirped. "If Margot loves her, that means she's a real doll. She has impeccable taste, you know."

Will nodded, not really listening. He was far too busy worrying about how he'd appear when he saw Abigail. Would his eyes give him away? Would her intuition sense his offense without provocation?

Swallowing, Will took a deep breath, then anxiously rapped on her door. "Hey, uh…Abigail, are you decent? Margot sent someone with dresses for you to try on."

There came a pause, then the door ripped open and Abigail's bright, ebullient face appeared in front of his. "Really? She got us something that fast?"

Will trembled, unnerved by her sudden closeness. He hated how he simultaneously feared and yearned for her. "Yeah, uh…she's in the living room setting everything up. Why don't you go see if she needs any help?"

"Ok!" Chipper, Abigail pushed past him and tied her robe more securely, her bare feet padding across the floor as he watched her retreat. Over the sound of rustling garment bags, he could hear her humming as she moved.

Will quivered. Now catching himself on the doorframe, he leaned his weight against it and swallowed faintly, closing his eyes before counting to ten.


	9. Preparations

As it turned out, Trisha Loveday was quite the mother hen. She'd clucked at Will, fussing until he'd gone off to his own room to change. "A woman's body is private," she'd snapped. "I won't have you hanging around while Abigail's trying to change – nothing's going to happen while you're gone, for goodness sake!"

Will's cheeks burned at the memory. Apparently Margot had told her about his overprotective tendencies. Even so, he felt nervous as he sifted through the allotted suits, worrying that Trisha might somehow impede the progress he'd made with Abigail. They had a very delicate relationship, so he feared that just about anything could turn the tide.

After sifting through the garment bags, Will found a suit in his size and decided it was good enough. Unlike Abigail, he wasn't excited over the prospect of dressing up and looking like an ass in front of high (or in Mason's case, low) society. He hated parties.

Suddenly, a flurry of applause and ecstatic praises came from the living room. Did that mean Abigail had finally found a dress?

Deciding to investigate (to hell with Trisha's rebukes), Will abandoned his room and crept through the hallway, still hearing the enthusiastic remarks and compliments.

"Oh Abigail, dumplin', just  _look_  at you! You'll have to knock the boys off with a stick!"

Will faltered, stopping at the end of the hallway. Did he even  _want_  to see her? After the morning he'd had, he didn't know how much more he could take…

"Will!" he heard Trisha chirp. "Will, darlin', come see how _beautiful_  your Abigail is!"

 _' **My**  Abigail?'_  Tensing his fists, Will slowly walked around the corner and held his breath. Abigail's back was currently facing him, but he could already tell she was painfully beautiful. The gown was a pastel pink with tiny, sewn on crystals along the flouncy skirt, the plunging backline leaving Will lightheaded as he admired the pale, soft flesh between her shoulders and derriere. Trisha set down the mirror she'd been holding and took Abigail's shoulders, patting her face before turning her around and straightening the sheer netting over the silk chiffon.

Will gaped at her. Abigail looked up at him shyly, biting her lip with an unintentional coquetry that made his heart race.

"Do I look ok?" she meekly asked. There was that damnable insecurity Margot had mentioned…it was impossible  _not_  to see her beauty, and it bothered Will that she needed to be reminded.

"I…yes," he rasped, suddenly feeling insecure himself. "You look very nice."

Abigail's cheeks turned rosy and she ducked her head, her eyes flitting to Trisha as she twisted her hands. "I…I guess this is the one, then…"

"Oh yes, I knew it the minute I saw it!" Trisha chirped. To Will she asked, "Did you manage to find yourself a nice suit?"

"Uhh, yeah…I went ahead and put all the others back in their bags, so you won't have to go through the hassle of putting everything away again."

Trisha beamed. "Oh bless you, doll! I don't know what Margot was talking about, 'cause you don't seem half bad!"

Abigail laughed, but Will appeared insulted.

Seemingly oblivious, Trisha began to lift Abigail's hair off her neck, inspecting the thickness and shine with her artistic eye. "Oh heavens, I'm going to have fun with you!" she exclaimed. "What do you think about wearing your hair up?"

The color instantly drained from Abigail's face. Self-consciously, she moved away from Trisha and draped her hair over her missing ear, eyes downcast and ashamed. She hadn't terribly minded Will seeing the scar tissue (and to an extent Margot), but the thought of strangers – people who didn't  _understand_  – studying the ugly, knotted flesh was too much for her to bear.

"Do I have to?" she weakly asked.

"Well for goodness sake, hun, why do you want to hide that precious face? I'm pretty sure it'd be a sin  _not_  to!"

Abigail's eyes darkened. This bitch didn't know the half of what it was like to sin.

"Uhh, why not half up and half down?" Will suggested, coming to her rescue. Alana had worn her hair like that a lot when he'd known her, and the style had mostly covered her ears.

Trisha's eyes lit up. "Well lansakes, son, you're a genius! I can't believe I didn't think of it first!" Pleased, she stroked Abigail's hair and promised, "When I come back later this week, I'll fix your hair and makeup real nice, alright? Then we can ride over to the Verger mansion together."

Abigail's eyes met with Will's and he wavered, overwhelmed by the amount of gratitude he saw gazing back at him. Had she ever looked at him that way before, he wondered? Why had it taken a hairstyle fiasco for her to view him in this light? He liked to think he'd always been accessible to her, but perhaps his approach had made him seem closed off. He'd been accused of this many times before.

Unable to take her eyes on him any longer, Will turned and left the two women to their own devices, Trisha's loud, boisterous dialogue reaching him long after he'd shut his bedroom door.

 

* * *

 

When Will finally gained the courage to come out of hiding, he found Abigail curled up on the couch, a book in her lap while she lazily stroked Winston's fur. Will smiled in spite of himself. "Hi, Abby."

"Hi," she said, not looking up.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Slowly, Abigail set her book off to the side and curled her legs, expression guarded as Will approached her. "Is this about the other day?"

He winced. "Uh…yes, actually. I wanted to apologize for what I did, and…and to tell you I didn't mean anything by it."

"Didn't you?"

"Well…" Will faltered, tensing his fists. "N-no, of course not. I wanted to connect with you and went about it in the wrong way, that's all. It'll never happen again."

"Oh…" Biting her lip, Abigail shrugged and assured him, "It was the actual kiss that scared me, not you. It's just…I've never really tried it before." Looking back up at him she said, "Maybe I should've let you do it…I'm a little old not to know about kissing, don't you think?"

Helplessly, Will's eyes drifted down to her full, chapped lips and felt his chest tighten. She seemed so young in that moment…oh God, what was she  _doing_  to him?

"I can't," he feebly said.

"That's not what I asked…"

"Then  _no!"_   he snapped, startling her.

A palpable tension throbbed between the two, both tight-lipped and stubborn as the moments ticked by. But as always, Will was the first to break the silence. "I…I need to start dinner," he muttered.

As he turned away, Abigail reached out and touched his wrist. "I wanted to thank you," she coolly said. "Trisha can be overwhelming, but you made her stop… I appreciated that."

Will's gaze softened and Abigail's hand slipped off his arm, leaving him both hollow and ashamed. "You're welcome," he quietly said. He wanted to add that he'd do anything for her – that he'd always be there to help, but promptly swallowed the words. At this point in his life, he knew it wasn't wise to make promises. It always led to disappointment.


	10. A Truce

As the days passed, Abigail's stiff demeanor softened and she gradually started to speak again. Will hadn't meant to upset her – he actually thought that by apologizing he'd be  _helping_ matters – but she needed to understand that what he'd initiated could go no further. Not that Abigail seemed interested in a romantic relationship… In fact, ever since the day she'd tried on her gown, she'd grown cold and aloof around him like before. It wasn't until earlier that morning that she'd finally made an effort to communicate.

Removing his glasses, he sighed and placed them onto the coffee table, now hearing Abigail coming in through the backdoor. His dogs eagerly rushed over to greet her. Their paws skittered against the hardwood flooring, causing her to laugh as she bent over to pet them. "When's the last time they had a bath?" she asked.

"Oh, uh…about a month ago, I think?"

"A  _month?_  Ugh! Get the hose and some soap then, 'cause we're bathing them right now! They really stink!" Retrieving Buster from off the floor, Abigail grinned and began carrying the mutt toward the front door. The panting arsenal all went trotting after her while Will stared, stunned by her abrupt change in attitude. Even so, when his ward got like this, her moods were highly infectious.

After grabbing some dish liquid from the kitchen, Will went outside and found Abigail pulling the hose around front from the garden. "Need any help?"

She shook her head, but nearly tripped over Buster when he came barreling between her legs. "Hey! I'm on  _your_  side!"

Trying his best not to laugh, Will motioned her forward and said, "We can bathe them up here. If we do it in the grass, they'll just get dirty again."

"Hmph, you have an answer for everything, don't you?"

He smirked, helping her up the porch steps before bringing her over to Winston. "We can start with him first, 'cause he's relatively easy. He'll hold still for as long as you need."

"Ok." Getting down on her knees, Abigail stroked Winston's fur and began to bathe him, drenching the dog with careful, deliberate passes of the hose. Will poured a dollop of soap into his hand and squatted down beside her, now running his fingers through Winston's wet coat until he built up a lather. "Ready to rinse?"

"Is it really this easy?" Abigail asked, sparing him a disbelieving glance. "Somehow I was expecting a fight…"

Will chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, Buster and Bandit will more than make up for Winston's compliance. Those two will fight you every step of the way."

Winston pulled away then, furiously shaking until he'd pelted his bathers with stray water. Abigail shielded herself with her arms, laughing, then wiped the cold droplets from her face. "Ok, so who's our next victim?"

Will looked to her with a smile.

Before long, each dog had received a bath (whether they liked it or not) except for Buster. He stood there wagging his tail, deceptively cheerful as Abigail moved to douse him with the hose. But once he'd been sprayed, he instantly tried to bolt, Will grabbing ahold of him and yanking him back under the nozzle. As he applied soap to Buster's fur, the dog's tongue lolled and he struggled in his arms. "Quick, Abby," Will urged, "hose him down so I can let go."

When she obeyed, Buster reared back and knocked Will in the chin, leaving him with dirt and soap on the bottom side of his face. Abigail bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

_"Abby!"_

Remembering herself, she quickly drenched the dog and washed off the remaining soap, thus allowing Will to release the little spitfire before he could do any more damage. As Buster ran off, Will sighed and slumped down to his knees. "Well, that could've gone better…"

"Or worse," Abigail assured him. Now tapping her chin, she added, "You've got a little something there…"

"Where?  _Here?"_

She nodded.

As Will moved to wipe off the offending grime, she sprayed him directly in the face with the hose, giggling brightly as he lurched back in shock.  _"Abigail!"_

Easily evading his swipes, she kept the hose and went racing down the porch steps. She could hear him clamoring down after her, shouting as she turned and sprayed him yet again.

Before long, Abigail ran out of hose and had no choice but to abandon her weapon. As she rounded a small group of trees, Will stepped out in front of her and cut her off, still dripping from her earlier assault. They faced off.

Now rushing forward, he grabbed Abigail by the waist and she shrieked, flailing as he lifted her into his wet embrace and spun her in several round, concentric circles. Her shrieking increased, but it was with joy instead of fear. Will wasn't quite used to that.

"Let go, let  _go!"_  Abigail squealed, though she was laughing.

Will moved to give a snide retort, but a car horn cut him off mid-sentence, startling him to the point that he nearly dropped her.

Trisha Loveday was now heading toward them with her makeup bags. The minute she appraised them she paused, mouth open as Will sheepishly moved away from his ward.

"Well lansakes, just look at you two! I can see I've got my work cut out for me, after all!" She checked her watch and clucked in disapproval. "Why would you get all wet and messy on the day of the fundraiser? You know we only have a couple hours!" When all they did was stare, she sighed and snapped, "Well don't just stand there gawping like a couple of ninnies – get a move on!"

As Will finally made an effort to obey, he caught Abigail's gaze and the two broke into wide, conspiratorial grins. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all…

 

* * *

 

With Trisha at the helm, the rental cabin became an instant beauty parlor. The stale scent of perfume, hair spray, and various lotions made Will dizzy, so once Trisha had finished grooming and appraising him, he'd more than happily stumbled outside for shelter. He couldn't believe he'd let her trim and brush his hair…

Self-consciously passing a hand through his curls, Will sighed and impatiently began to pace. The suit itched and the bow tie felt constrictive, causing him to tug at the garment every few minutes. Oh Goddammit, why was he begin so selfish? This whole affair was for Abigail. She was clearly excited, so he should be too, and if not for himself, then for her.

As if in answer to his internal struggle, the door opened and Abigail glided out amidst a demure rustling of skirts. With her makeup enhancing the brightness of her complexion and her large, startling eyes, she looked like peaches kissed with sugar.

Will felt his palms dampen. In that moment, he knew he couldn't pretend Abigail was a child even if he wanted to – he couldn't pretend she was someone he could rescue or fix like one of his boats. She was a woman…a  _beautiful_  woman with warmth, courage and laughter that penetrated him to his very soul.

Lips curving up into a bright smile, Abigail approached him and held out her hand. "Are you going to escort me? That's how this fancy stuff works, right?"

Will breathed a laugh. "I don't know what about my salary suggests I'm an expert, but I'd be happy to escort you the three feet it takes to get to the car."

"Shut up."

Chuckling, he looped his arm through hers and placed his hand on her fingers, feeling the gentleness of her touch on his bicep. Being so close flooded his body with pleasure.

Trisha came out of the cabin not long after, clucking at the limo driver as Will helped Abigail into the backseat. She promptly slid over, allowing Will to climb in beside her as Trisha continued to fuss.

"Think we can leave her behind?" he muttered.

Abigail stifled a laugh, turning her head to glance out the window. He gaped at her, feeling his heart flutter as she continued to smile. She finally seemed happy… Was she happy with  _him,_  or was it the impending excitement that had her so open and warm?

"Alright, drive!" Trisha snapped, breaking his thoughts as she slid in next to him. "This party won't keep, Mister!"

Will saw the driver roll his eyes, but with one quick jerk of the gears, they began to ease down the path back to civilization.


	11. The Party

When the trio finally arrived at the estate, there were already quite a few cars waiting to drop off their patrons. In a spastic fit of nerves, Abigail grasped onto Will’s arm and curled against his side, her eyes bright and shining as she watched the rich, marvelously dressed men and women flock toward the entrance.

“Abby, I don’t have any feeling left in my arm,” Will joked.

“Oh…sorry.” Abruptly releasing him, she chewed her lip and anxiously craned her head as they pulled up front. A concierge opened the door and held out his hand, startling Abigail when she realized he intended to help her out of the car. Accepting his clammy hand (and feeling grateful for wearing gloves), she nearly tripped when she found herself deposited onto a fleet of stairs. They started all the way at the paved roundabout and escalated up to the entrance in all their wide, stony splendor. She suddenly felt a hand on her back and looked up.

“Ready to go in?”

Abigail smiled, nodding as Will held out his arm for her to take. Tucking her fingers into the crook of his elbow, she shyly leaned into his side and they began their ascent. Up, up, and up they went, until they were greeted by two butlers in the double entryway.

“Champagne, sir? Perhaps a little caviar?”

Will stared at the offered tray and sneered. “Wow, so you’re trying to get us drunk right at the beginning, are you? That’s never a good sign…”

Despite the barb being good-natured, the butler didn’t even smile. “And a drink for the lady, sir?”

Abigail puffed up, enjoying the thought of appearing old enough to imbibe. Nevertheless, she declined his offer. “No thank you, good sir.” When Will arched a brow, she whispered, “In high school, I had to read a little Jane Austen here and there. How’d I do?”

He laughed, pulling her along through the foyer. “You did ‘quite well, I say indubitably, good chap.’”

“Don’t be an ass.”

Eyes twinkling, he fondly touched her hand and escorted her right into the heart of the large, bustling room set up for dancing. The flooring was made of two different colored tiles and the massive, marble pillars dotting the area screamed of masculinity. The place clearly needed a woman’s touch.

Despite the hideous décor, Abigail was clearly impressed. She squeezed Will’s arm amidst her excitement, admiring the various gowns, entrees, and orchestral pieces swelling in the background. It was all so magical…very much like how she imagined her first real kiss would be.

Biting her lip, Abigail flushed with pleasure and tried to ignore her racing heart. What if Will planned on trying again, given the romantic mood and room full of couples? Would she let him this time? Would she even like it?

“Will! Abby!”

Looking up, she brightened as Margot approached them bedecked in a long, flowing emerald gown with matching pumps.

“Oh Abby, just look at you – you’re absolutely stunning!” Beaming, she tugged on one of Abigail’s loose, curled ringlets and watched it bounce back into place. “Trisha really outdid herself this time!”

“You think so?”

Margot grinned. “Of course I do – I’m an expert on beautiful women.” Now looking over to Will, she winked. “Are you two enjoying the party?”

“Oh, uh…so far, yes,” Will said, a bit flustered. “Thank you for having us.”

“Don’t mention it. In the meantime, why don’t you have some food and mingle for a bit? I’ve unfortunately got to play ‘Little Miss Hostess,’ but I’ll be back to check on you from time to time.”

“Ok, sure…thanks.”

As Margot flounced away, Will sighed and looked over to Abigail. To his alarm, he could already see a proud, suave-looking man making a beeline right for their side of the room. Surely he wasn’t going to…?

“Excuse me, Miss…”

_Goddammit._

Looking up in surprise, Abigail blushed when a total stranger took her hand and pressed a warm, friendly kiss to her fingers. She could feel her chest heaving over the low, lacy neckline of her gown. Oh, how unsettling it was to have people pay attention to her!

Now lifting his impish eyes, the man coyly introduced, “My name is Connor Hartwell, longtime friend and associate of the Vergers. I was hoping I might have the honors of a dance?”

Abigail cringed. “I…I don’t really know how…”

“Don’t worry, love, it’s easy – come on and I’ll show you.”

Sparing Will a helpless glance, Abigail missed the bitter defeat in his eyes as this “Connor Hartwell” spirited her away onto the dance floor.

Gliding out amidst the other swaying couples, Abigail nervously allowed this stranger to take her hand and touch the small of her back.

“Now comes the easy part,” he assured her. “It’s all really just a matter of 1-2-3, 1-2-3…like this.”

Being led into the beginnings of a waltz, Abigail stumbled a little at first, but somehow managed to get the hang of it after only a few tries.

“Ha! You’re a natural!”

Something about Connor’s praise reminded her of Will. With her eyes darting back toward his side of the room, Abigail turned her head and discreetly tried to seek him out. She knew it was rude to break eye contact with her dance partner, but she wanted to make sure Will hadn’t wandered off with some demure, beautiful heiress. To her relief, she saw that Margot had returned to his side.

“You dance wonderfully.”

Abigail looked back to Connor and smiled. “I’ve got two left feet, but thanks for the nice lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

Once again, Abigail’s eyes sought Will in the crowd, her gaze soft and beseeching.

Connor finally took notice. “What about that man over there has you so worried? Is he your boyfriend?”

Abigail blushed, furiously shaking her head. “N-no, of course not… We came together, so I wanted to make sure he didn’t leave me behind, that’s all.”

He grinned wolfishly. “Well that’s good to know…”

Margot, meanwhile, was impatiently jabbing Will in the side. “Why are you just standing around like an oaf? Connor Hartwell is a notorious manwhore, Will – go out there and rescue her!”

“I…I can’t… Didn’t you see that-?”

“What, are you unfamiliar with old-fashioned dance etiquette? As long as you tap the guy on the back, you can cut in.”

“But I-”

_“Go.”_

Frustrated, Will began weaving his way through the oblivious couples, each twirling around him like graceful flowers. This was a mistake… Who even said Abigail _wanted_ to be rescued? Nevertheless, he took heed to Margot’s goading and tapped Connor on the shoulder. The man stopped, startled, then turned his eyes up to him with obvious displeasure.

“Ah…it’s your friend,” Connor coolly said. “I suspect he’s come to take you away from me.”

“Only for a little while,” Will promised. “That is…if Abigail doesn’t mind?” To his surprise, she gratefully abandoned Connor and entered his arms, her right hand folding into his as her left fluttered to his shoulder.

Into his ear she whispered, “It took you long enough.”

Will swallowed, his palm growing damp against the bare skin of her back. “I…I thought you might’ve liked him.”

 _“Why?_ Because he’s rich and has nice hair? Gimme a break.” Rolling her eyes, Abigail resumed the steps of “1-2-3” and, after a clumsy start, Will began to mimic her as they rotated on the dance floor.

“Abby, the man’s supposed to lead…”

“Who says?”

He chuckled, following her move with an airiness to his step. “I was forced to take Cotillion as a boy, so my _instructors_ say so, but I guess I can emasculate myself just this once…for you.”

“Oh, please. You gave up your ‘man card’ the minute Trisha touched your hair.”

“Hmph…touché.” Eyes nervously flitting from her face to the wall and then back to her face again, Will flexed his damp hand against her back and drew a breath. Their dance was growing far too intimate for comfort… Each time Abigail jerked along with her practiced steps, her torso would brush against him in a moment of demure, naive innocence, leaving Will breathless and shaken as he tried to calm his pounding heart. Abigail was concentrating too deeply to take notice.

Mercifully, the music came to a halt and forced the couples to stop dancing, all now looking around to spot what had put a premature end to their fun.

“What is it?” Abigail whispered, straining to see. “What’s everyone looking at?”

As if in answer to her query, a loud, boisterous titter sounded and a man was wheeled into the middle of the room. Will’s eyes darkened. He knew that monster anywhere.

“Aw, tut, tut, tut, don’t stop dancing on my behalf!” Mason Verger crowed. “Please! Keep pretending you’re a pretty, pretty princess with your pretty, pretty prince!” Giggling, he suddenly paused and squinted (or at least, what _appeared_ to be a squint) at something ahead. “Cordell!” he exclaimed. “Be a pal and wheel me in closer, would you?”

Will paled. Instinctively stepping in front of Abigail, he urged her behind him as the sea of guests parted to admit their host.

Mason looked up with what Will assumed to be a sneer, then slid his eyes toward the bemused girl at his side. “And who’s this?” he asked, unmistakably interested. “I don’t recall seeing _her_ before…”

Will tensed his fists. “She’s none of your concern, Mason – just keep moving.”

The man whooped in delight, trembling from his giggles. “Well, well, well! The Sperm Donor’s becoming much _bolder_ with his donations, isn’t he? Such a young and pretty thing!”

Abigail’s face grew puzzled. “Will, what’s he talking about?”

Mason gave an overdramatic gasp. “Why, you mean you don’t _know?_ I thought _everyone_ knew he – if you’ll pardon the pun – _porked_ my sister!”

A gasp arose and Margot was immediately on the scene, pushing Cordell back and commandeering the wheelchair. “Alright Mason, that’s enough!”

“Well! If you didn’t want everyone to know, you shouldn’t have been open for business!”

Horrified, Will felt his blood run cold as Margot wheeled her brother away, his loud, jeering giggles reaching him long after the double doors had closed behind them. He swallowed once and shivered, wiping a hand over his mouth.

“Will?”

He looked down, seeing Abigail’s pale, expressionless face as she gazed straight ahead.

“Yes?”

“Is it true?”

He closed his eyes, searching vainly for an explanation that didn’t make him sound sick, lonely or deprived.

Abigail scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Abby, I just…wait a minute! _Abigail!”_ But she’d already taken off through the crowd, abandoning him as she pushed her way toward the gardens.

“Abby, _wait!”_

Ignoring him, Abigail’s vision blurred as she weaved through the guests, all the while feeling her heart get torn apart by the jagged truth: Will and Margot had never cared about her…it was all a ruse!

“Abigail!”

Finally finding her in the Vergers’ large, illustrious garden, Will struggled to catch his breath as Abigail turned away from him.

“Just leave me alone.”

“Abby, we need to talk…”

“About what?” she viciously cut in. “I can’t _believe_ I actually thought you cared – that you both wanted me to get better!” Laughing humorlessly, she spat, “If you just wanted to fuck your girlfriend, you didn’t have to pretend she was here to help!”

Will winced. “Abby, that’s not-”

“No, it’s alright! She’s very pretty…if I were you, I’d probably think I was in the way, too. I just wish you hadn’t used me as some stupid cover-up!” She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I feel like such an idiot…why couldn’t you have just told me the truth?”

“Do you think this is an _easy_ thing for me to talk about?” Will clenched his fists. “It’s not like I could’ve just brought it up during dinner! _Oh by the way, you know our mutual lesbian friend? Yeah. I slept with her and she tried having a baby._ I wasn’t protecting myself by hiding this, Abigail. I was trying to…well…I guess I just didn’t think it was your business.” He huffed a noisy exhale and paced toward the bench and back again, hands shoved into his pockets. Stopped. Turned and looked at her imploringly, shoulders still hunched in defeat.

Abigail swallowed, trembling from both rage and nerves. A lump formed in her throat and a blurry, blinding veil of tears formed over her eyes. In that moment, she wanted to reach out and grab Will – to shake him by the lapels of his damned tux and _destroy_ him – but instead, she dug her sharp nails into her arms and clenched her jaw. “You used me,” she softly bit out. “You both did… All along you were just here for Margot.”

Will struck a nearby post, finally fed up with her conjecture. “Goddammit, Abigail, I don’t _want_ Margot, I want…!” But he trailed off, realizing that he’d nearly confessed the one thing he’d been trying so hard to deny. He wanted Abigail…he _needed_ Abigail, and he would never again be content with anyone else. Her soft, bewitching eyes had ruined him for all eternity.

Mutely closing the distance between them, Will cupped her face and miserably pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, _so_ sorry…” Lips yearning to cover hers, he instead tangled his fingers through her hair and closed his eyes, her breath scorching his mouth as she grasped the lapels of his coat.

Suddenly breaking free of his grip in a violent fit, Abigail struck his arm and jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed. “I don’t care _how_ sorry you are – I’m tired of this stupid party and I want to go home!”

Will swallowed. “Ok, well we can-”

“No! I want to go by _myself._ If I have to take a Taxi back, I will, just so long as I don’t have to ride with _you!”_

“Abigail, you know that won’t be necessary… I’ll take the Taxi.” The pain in Will’s head rose to a fevered pitch, becoming an incessant whine akin to grave stress. He shoved the palm of his hand against his eyebrow, trying to massage the agony back to a dull ache. “I…I didn’t mean,” he said slowly, still rubbing his forehead in measured circles. He exhaled shakily, his vision gradually refocusing. “I never wanted to hurt you, Abigail…not ever. No matter what happens, I just want you to know that-”

“Stop.” Abigail shook her head, tears pooling around her eyes. “I’m done, ok? I’m going back now, and I don’t want you to follow me.”

“But-”

“For once would you just _listen_ to someone other than yourself?! I want to be alone right now!”

He nodded, swallowing low in his throat.

Without waiting for him to respond, Abigail hitched up her skirts and went storming toward the front entrance.

Will remained true to his word and didn’t follow her, though in his heart he’d told her how much she meant to him – he’d consoled her with his touch and kisses and soft words of adoration. In his mind, he could tell her anything…in his mind, he wasn’t a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, this story will take on an "Explicit" rating, so we all know what THAT means... https://31.media.tumblr.com/7de2c9e4eb1523e6d84b93253b0091dd/tumblr_inline_n9afc0zB4i1si32k9.gif Smut, smut, smuuuut, smuttety-smut-smut-smuttttt (and then more in later chapters, hurr hurr).
> 
> I also tried drawing Abigail and Margot's dresses, but horribly failed (but I may try again later). In the meantime, just look at a gif-set I made that features Will and Abigail dancing, cuz it's close enough (even though it has nothing to do with my fic lol): http://prose-before-ho-s.tumblr.com/post/87237447204/hannibal-au-will-and-abigail-both-die-but
> 
> Also, I can no longer update twice a week, cuz I'm not as ahead as I used to be, and I also have writer's block, so I don't feel comfortable doing so. Otherwise, you may be stuck for weeks without an update if I can't find inspiration, and I don't want to leave you guys hanging! :/ Sorry about that!


	12. Self-Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Strong sexual content.**

When Will finally entered the cabin, it was closing in on eight in the morning. He tossed his blazer onto the kitchen table and stumbled dizzily toward the bathroom, his head swimming as he groped for the light switch. Despite it being a cliché, Will had spent the previous night using a hired Taxi to barhop. In addition to a whopping fare, he was now sporting one of the worst hangovers he’d had in years. And Abigail…

He swallowed. Was she still mad at him? Did she hate him for what he’d done? He couldn’t help that he’d been lonely…he couldn’t help that he was _still_ lonely. That had to be why such a young, broken girl could be so damnably appealing to him.

Now stripping off his clothes, Will tossed them into a pile and stepped underneath the showerhead, turning it on full-blast so that he was soaked from head to toe. At first the water was cold, so he jolted, a bit grateful to the sobering effect before it transformed into a warm, pleasant heat that made his muscles relax and his eyes close. As his thoughts once more drifted off to Abigail, he heard an irate shriek coming from the kitchen.

“Son of a _bitch!”_

Will jerked to attention, startled as he heard the heavy pounding of footfalls. Soon after, the door flew open and Abigail came cutting furiously through the steam. _“You!”_ she growled. “I thought I told you I wanted to be alone!”

Now grasping the shower curtain, Abigail ripped it back and revealed Will’s startled, dripping face…among other things.

“Abby!” he exclaimed in horror. “Get out of here!”

Ignoring him, she slapped his arm and gave him a push. “You promised!” she cried. “You said you’d leave me alone, but now you’re here…you’re _here!”_

Flailing against him with her tiny fists, Abigail sobbed and bitterly struck whatever he would allow.

Will wordlessly stood there and accepted her punishment, though a fire was starting low in his belly. It sickened him that their little bit of contact electrified him – it _sickened_ him that he was becoming aroused.

Abigail’s strikes began to weaken, though at this point the water had saturated parts of her sheer nightgown, thus referring him to the memory of her soft, rounded curves.

Oh God, he couldn’t take it anymore…he couldn’t fight _her_ anymore!

Catching her fist mid-strike, Will tugged Abigail flush against him and urgently claimed her mouth with a rough, searing kiss that left her clawing at his shoulders. Her lips felt raw and clumsy against his own, but instead of pulling back like he expected, she viciously shoved him against the wall and angled her face into his.

Will grunted when his head connected with the tile, though his hands continued their greedy exploration as she artlessly slid her tongue into his mouth. He groaned low in his throat, grasping the hem of her nightgown and lifting it over her hips.

Abigail squirmed impatiently. Now helping him discard her remaining garments, she gasped when they staggered back underneath the showerhead, the water cascading down her bare skin as Will kissed her fiercely. They licked, bit, and groped at one another, both crying out when they collided with the tile.

Sliding his hand between her legs, Will cupped Abigail’s cheek and stroked along her entrance, watching the aroused anguish play across her face as he searched for what she liked. He rubbed her clit and studied her bright eyes, her mouth opening in a silent scream when he plunged two fingers inside her welcoming heat. Driving his hand more strongly, Will felt her hips rock into his flexing fingers as her warm, wet mouth opened against the pulse on his throat. Her tongue darted out, tasting his skin as she throbbed around him.

“Oh, God, Abby,” he gasped. _“Oh, God…”_

Will’s knees gave out then and they began sinking, his lips crashing into hers as he pulled and tugged on her hair. Abigail mewled into the kiss and encouraged him to knead and massage her breasts. With her arms around his neck, she rolled her hips into his straining erection, feeling a sense of pride when he made a low, choking sound and gripped at her waist.

He needed her…oh God, he couldn’t _stop._

Frantically urging Abigail beneath him, Will pressed his forehead to hers and felt her thighs come up to grip his hips. The litany of _moremoremore_ whirred through his veins and he knew it was all over.

With a long, gusting breath, Will slid into her body and felt her tense up, her teeth biting into his shoulder so hard that his head tossed back in agony. Blunt nails digging into the plastic tub, he shuddered and began to jerk inside her warmth. Abigail yelped and scratched up his back, her toes curling along with each merciless thrust. A long, feminine whine escaped her lips and Will kissed her, sucking on her tongue as she urgently rolled her hips into his. Each thrust had him groaning lowly into her mouth.

Breathless, Abigail broke the kiss and pushed on his chest. “Let me try,” she pleaded.

Will looked down at her, puzzled, but when she urged him up into a sitting position, he thought he finally understood. “Take whatever you need from me,” he whispered.

Abigail willingly complied. Straddling his hips, it all became instinct when she drew him in for a deep and artless kiss, a gasp catching in her throat as she eased herself back onto his throbbing arousal. Despite her uncertainty, she knew she was doing something right because of the noises coming from Will's mouth. Limbs trembling and heart racing, she whimpered and tugged on his hair, both crying out when she forcefully sank down to the hilt.

Beginning to rock and twist in his lap, Abigail circled her hips and quaked along with the warm, thrilling pleasure of him stroking all of her inner nerve endings. Will’s arms came around her then and she panted, easing up and down his length as his jabs began to grow more forceful.

Dropping his forehead onto her shoulder, Will’s breath became shallow as the strong, unbearable ache increased in his loins. Her tightness squeezed his cock and he sank his short nails into her skin, relishing in the sensation of her sinking and rising around him. The motion massaged his girth and made him pull back for air.

Abigail’s movements began to grow stronger and more deliberate, Will’s fingers digging into her hips firmly enough to bruise. When she stroked down his cock, he urgently pushed on the small of her back, forcing his erection to fill up her tight little cunt. Each time he felt her clench around him, he’d cry out and utter a string of curses. He knew the end was near, for everything was heightened, stronger, and far more desperate, the sensitivity of his body causing him to flinch from just the slightest touch.

 _“Fuck,”_ Will growled. A shiver ran through him as he rolled one of Abigail’s hard, pebble-like nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Releasing it after a moment more of teasing, he slid his hand between her legs and began to finger her clit, rubbing it rapidly from side to side as he rocked his hips. He wanted to make her scream – to hear her soft, alluring cries, and to see her beautiful face when she finally came.

Abigail whimpered and grasped at Will’s shoulders. Pressing her forehead to his, she jolted when he gave another rough thrust upward, his finger still stroking her hardened bud. Her eyes grew agonized and her lips parted in a gasp, unaccustomed to feeling such pleasure. She was rapidly approaching that same precipice she’d reached mere days ago, but this time instead of free-falling, it felt as if she were soaring. “Please,” she weakly begged. “Please, please, _please…”_

The sensation of Abigail milking him was more than Will could bear. He watched her writhe and moan as she rocked on top of him, her pretty breasts heaving as a sudden realization dawned on him: Abigail probably wasn’t on the pill, and he most _certainly_ wasn’t wearing a condom… Didn’t that mean he could get her pregnant?

Panicking, Will lifted Abigail off his cock and turned his body, shuddering as he gave a feral growl and came hard against her thighs. Hips still writhing, he felt his body wrack with excited spasms as he released several low, deep groans.  
  
 _Fuck._ He didn't want Abigail to be upset with him, but the idea of getting her pregnant was not a welcome thought. It wasn’t that he detested the idea – on the contrary, he found that he very much wanted a family – but knowing what a baby could do to a vulnerable, recovering Abigail made his insides turn in on themselves.

“I’m sorry,” Will weakly apologized. He doubted she’d understand why he was being so contrite, but he felt he needed to say it anyway. As always, he’d managed to ruin a part of their relationship.

Reaching out to stroke the soft curve of her face, Will watched Abigail lean into his touch and felt his heart break. Oh, what had he done to her? Now she was bound as strongly to him as he was to her, forever doomed to need and desire what could never be a real love. And yet…it _was_ real – _painfully_ real, and Will was so consumed by this realization that he suddenly felt dizzy.

Sliding his hand down her cheek, his gaze drifted to their point of union and he sucked a breath, feeling his eyes water as he took in the sight of come and blood – _her_ blood.

Oh God, he was a monster…he was a fucking _monster._

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking.

Wordlessly, Abigail nestled against his chest and wove her fingers through his curls, causing him to quake and hold her more strongly. She cared for him. He didn’t know why or how, but she had to love him, if only just a little. That was the only way this could be okay.


	13. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **tw: blood/unintentional self-harm**

Sunlight slanted over Abigail’s eyes, leaving her bleary and disoriented as she rolled toward Will’s side of the bed. Her arms instinctively reached out for him, hoping to entwine around his strong, sturdy frame, but instead she kept rolling and wrinkled a piece of paper beneath her face. Her eyes instantly flew open.

Alarmed, Abigail peeled the note from her cheek and held it out in front of her, gaze clearing slowly.

 _Went fishing,_ it read. _Left you some breakfast on the table._

_-W_

Abigail stared at that “W” for a long time, trying to figure out its exact meaning. There had been no “love” preceding it, nor a “devotedly yours,” “love always,” or “thinking of you” – nothing like she’d seen in the movies. How could she tell how Will truly felt if he wouldn’t say? Was it ok to consider him her boyfriend now, or was this just some tawdry, no strings attached relationship?

Hurt and confused, Abigail slid out of bed and reached for the nightgown she’d left drying on a chair. Slipping it over her head, she didn’t bother studying her body like she’d originally planned. It suddenly didn’t matter to her if Will had claimed her with hickeys, bruises and love bites.

 _‘It’ll be ok,’_ she told herself. _‘The morning after’s always awkward.’_

Or at least, it was in the fictional world.

Now making her way into the kitchen, Abigail’s mouth instantly curved upward when she saw the breakfast table. Buster’s face was buried in her intended oatmeal bowl, licking noisily as he wagged his tail. Beside him, her eggs and bacon had (hopefully) remained untouched. Abigail clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“You goober!” she exclaimed, warmly coming over to pat his head. “Let’s get you down from there, ok? Will’s going to have a fit!”

After setting the dog onto the floor, Abigail turned and realized there were flowers on the table. It was a simple gesture, but it warmed her to see the wild, hand-picked posies from the garden. Maybe Will was trying to speak through the flowers, instead, since he wasn’t particularly good with words.

Still smiling, Abigail leaned over to take in their scent. If Will had been there right now, she knew she would plead with him to touch her again – to remind her that she was loved and wanted. Even though their coupling had been as fleeting as everything else in her life, Abigail had felt warm, safe, and needed while being enveloped in his arms. She didn’t ever want to return to the same old emptiness of before.

Finally sitting down, Abigail grabbed her fork and laughed when she noticed a bright, friendly ketchup smile grinning across her eggs. Will was such a cornball… _Her_ cornball, perhaps?

She flushed crimson at the thought, grabbing her juice in an attempt at busying her hands. Even without really being there, Will made her shy and nervous.

Buster finally returned to her side and Abigail smiled, bending over to give him a piece of bacon.

 

* * *

 

After breakfast, Abigail brushed her teeth and washed her face, feeling light and airy as she stared back at her reflection. With the morning sun streaming in, she resembled a flushed teenager after prom. Her eyes were brighter – less shadowed and melancholy – and her lips now seemed to be in a perpetual smile. In a way, it seemed that Will Graham had saved her life for a third time.

Reaching for her makeup bag, Abigail painted her face as much as she dared and stepped back, appraising herself once more. She felt bolder – _adult_ – and she wanted to make sure Will viewed her that way as well. After they’d made love, Will had coddled her and she’d resented him for it. She wasn’t an ignorant child! The minute he’d covered her body with his, she’d known exactly what she was in for and had desired it completely. She’d _wanted_ Will to take her virginity. After all, he was the one who’d forgiven her for Boyle, and supposedly for the girls – a lesser man would’ve turned his back on her by now, but Will bore his cross and he bore it well. Abigail would gladly bear it with him, if he’d only let her.

“You don’t actually think he loves you, do you?”

Abigail jerked back in shock, dropping her lipstick into the sink with a startled clatter. Mouth open and heart racing, she observed her gaping face as it transformed into the cold, lifeless visage of Elise Nichols. Her lips curled up into a cruel little smile.

“How could he ever love you?” she pressed. “He doesn’t know the real you…he doesn’t _know_ how much you enjoyed handing me over for slaughter.”

“No, that’s not true! It’s not _true!”_ Abigail cried.

Instantly, the mirror shuddered and a sea of familiar faces melted into view, all sharing the same cold, glazed eyes that reflected nothing but darkness in their milky orbs. They were dead – _all_ of them – and she’d been the one to signal the executioner’s blow.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” the one on the right hissed. “You’re the newest Shrike!”

“No!” Abigail wailed. “No, no, _no!”_

“Liar!” they all chorused. _“Murderer!”_

Screaming, Abigail used both fists and pounded fiercely against the glass, shattering it on impact as she continued to punch and claw at the taunting phantasms. Glass sliced up her wrists and fingers, but still she attacked, almost feral as bloody shards fell uselessly into the sink.

Finally she stopped, holding out her bleeding arms as she shivered and shook.

“Abigail…”

She jerked, gaping down at the glass pieces in shock. Marissa’s sweet face stared up at her, though it was no longer sweet – she only saw hatred and bitter resentment glaring back at her now. “Marissa…” she breathed. “Oh God, Rissa, I’m so sorry…”

“Stop kidding yourself,” the shards all spat. “He’ll never forgive you just like _I’ll_ never forgive you – killing yourself is the only real option.”

Abigail blinked through stinging tears. “But Marissa…”

“You know it’s true! You can’t hurt anyone else if you’re dead!”

She staggered back as if she’d been slapped, hot tears coursing down her cheeks and into her quivering mouth. “But I-”

“Do it, you stupid bitch! You’ll be doing everyone a favor!”

Groping for a piece of glass, Abigail tried to ignore Marissa’s accusing eyes as she drew the shard up to her throat. It aligned perfectly with her scar tissue…almost prophetically. Maybe Marissa was right. Maybe this was _meant_ to happen.

Trembling, Abigail shook as tears blinded her vision, leaving her with a ghostly outline of her impending fate. She thought of Will and what he would do when he found her. She wanted to believe that he loved her, but what if the girls were right? What if Will would actually be relieved if she were gone?

Abigail began to cry harder, her shaking causing her to lightly nick her throat. A prick of pain flared up and a warm, bright bead of blood followed before trickling down her neck. She couldn’t do this…she _wouldn’t!_ She’d be damned if all her sacrifices for survival led to _this._

Tossing the glass with a sob, Abigail clapped her hands over her face and wept bitterly.

“Coward!” she heard Marissa screaming. “You _coward!”_

The shock and blood loss suddenly became too much for Abigail. Her vision pitched and wavered, and in a moment of startling terror, she collapsed heavily against the tile floor, unconscious.


	14. Half Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sexual content warning, as well as talk of self-harm**

When Abigail awoke again, she found herself gazing up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Her heart thudded hollowly in her ears, each rush of blood causing her eyes to flutter listlessly. Will…where was he? Was he coming home soon?

Oh! She needed to make them lunch!

Lurching into awareness, Abigail ignored the momentary dizziness as she rocketed up into a sitting position. All around her laid a shower of glass. Her arms throbbed their painful reminder, but she ignored the cuts, deciding that she would hide this little episode from Will. She didn’t want the look in his eyes to change – she needed him to keep believing the lie, just as she’d managed to believe it herself.

Gathering up the glass, Abigail threw it into the waste bin and mopped her blood off the floor, careful to remove all traces save for the broken mirror. She knew she could explain that as a clumsy accident.

With everything clean and secure, Abigail changed into some shorts and a loose, lightweight shirt with long sleeves to cover her arms. There was very little that could be done about her hands, but by this point she was already formulating her lies. Sometimes it frightened Abigail how naturally manipulation came to her. Was this who she really was? Who she was always meant to be?

Bowing her head, Abigail ignored her heavy heart and headed into the kitchen to make lunch. Will deserved a thank you for the breakfast he’d cooked.

 

* * *

 

When Will finally returned from his outing, he lugged a cooler of fish into the cabin and set it by the doorway. “Abigail?” he called. “I’m sure you’re sick of fish by now, but I couldn’t help myself…the weather was beautiful, the fish were constantly nibbling, and before I knew it, I’d spent almost my entire morning out there!”

Abigail came into the room smiling. “Well why didn’t you take me along then? Afraid I might beat your tally?”

He huffed, chuckling as she sidled up to him. “I didn’t want to wake you…you’re not much of a morning person, you know.” Shrugging out of his fishing gear, he made his way into the kitchen and asked, “What’d you do while I was out? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Oh no, uh…I actually just finished making lunch.” Abigail’s eyes misted, hurt since he hadn’t tried to kiss her. “It’s…it’s on the table. I made spaghetti and meatballs. Er…fishballs.”

Will laughed, eyes twinkling. “So I see! I hope you’ll be joining me.”

In her head, Abigail could hear the girls chorusing how Will didn’t love her – how she was a fool for even believing she could find love in the first place. He didn’t want her. She was a burden…a useless, incorrigible burden!

“Abigail?”

She looked up, quivering.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?”

Pale and drawn, she slowly moved over to the table and had a seat, eyes downcast as she reached for her silverware.

“This looks great, by the way. Thanks for pitching in.”

Abigail threw her fork down in disgust. “‘Pitching in’? _That’s_ what you’re calling it? I made this because I like you, not because I’m ‘pitching in’!”

Will winced from the growling force of her words. “Abigail, what’s wrong?”

“You’re some kind of all-knowing detective, aren’t you? Figure it out!” Gathering up her plate, she snapped, “I’ll just go finish this in my room. Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll more than happily ‘pitch in’ by cleaning up after myself!”

When she moved to storm past him, Will snagged her sleeve and whipped her around. The momentum caused Abigail to drop her plate, her teeth clenching when she realized her arm had been bared.

Following her gaze, Will instantly paled at the sight of the scabbed, nasty cuts and contusions. “Oh, God,” he breathed. “Oh, Abigail, what did you…?”

But she broke away from him then, unable to keep up the pretense as she went racing for her bedroom.

“Abigail!”

The door slammed shut and Will immediately went for the handle, cursing when he discovered it was locked. “Abby, c’mon, please… _please_ talk to me.”

“Go away!”

“Don’t shut me out…not this time.” Placing his hand against the door, his heart clenched when he heard her soft sobs. “Abigail, I’m begging you…I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

Desperate, Will decided that he needed to tell her the truth. As much as it pained him, it seemed to be his only real option. With a deep, shuddery breath, he leaned against the molding and closed his eyes, now picking at the wooden frame as he tensed his fist. “When I was younger, I…I used to cut myself,” he whispered. “So as hard as it may be for you to believe, I know all about being hurt and confused.”

There came a pause, then the door slowly clicked open and Abigail’s tired, puffy face came into view. Miserable, she stepped back and allowed him room to pass.

Will strode across the hardwood floor and curled his hands, his heart pounding as he began to pace. “I was thirteen,” he continued. “No friends, no sense of completion, no nothing… Even though I had my dad, I was alone.” He sank onto her bed and swallowed. “I wanted to feel something…to prove I _could_ feel, so I just did what any other lost soul would do. It felt good…freeing, almost. Sometimes I actually miss it.”

Hesitantly sitting beside him, Abigail slid her hand down his arm and turned his wrist. To her surprise, she saw several faded, frantic little marks etching the inside of his forearms. Will was telling the truth… Somehow this made her feel worse instead of better. She rubbed her thumb across a particularly deep groove, her chin quivering as a lump formed in her throat. “Will, I…”

“No, it’s ok,” he assured her. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“But I don’t do it all the time,” she choked out. “I just…I do it when I want to remember I can heal.” Abigail sniffled, recalling how good it felt to see the physical proof that she could get better – that she was resilient and capable of overcoming any obstacle. And even though she hadn’t broken the mirror on purpose, there had still been a visceral thrill in being marked by the glass.

"Abby?"

Will’s hand came over hers and she burst into tears, burying her face against his shoulder as he stroked her cheek.

“Where do you do it?” he softly asked. When Abigail lifted her arms he shook his head, pushing the hair back from her eyes. “I was a habitual cutter, Abigail – I know there’s always more than one place.”

Ashamed, Abigail rose and slid her shorts down to her ankles, stepping out of them and revealing the pink, hurried little hatches along her inner thighs. Some of the marks were as recent as three months ago.

Will sank down to his knees and gathered her hips, nuzzling into her stomach before sliding a hand between her legs and stroking the raised, ugly scar tissue. But Will didn’t seem to think they were ugly… He kissed each individual mark, opening his mouth against her skin with an ardor that left her breathless.

“Will…?”

He responded by pressing a deep, lingering kiss against her clothed heat, his hands tugging on her panties until he slid them down to her knees. Abigail made a move to protest, unsure of what he was trying to do, but Will buried his face between her thighs and she was suddenly gasping, tugging on his curls and urging him to go deeper.

Abigail’s toes flexed and she arched her hips, shaking along with her breathy sobs as his tongue drove her closer and closer to climax. He licked and sucked at her wetness, encouraging her to rock into his face as she clawed at his shoulders. She heard him moan and then he was digging his nails into her thighs, angling his mouth strongly into her cunt as she jerked her hips in time to his lashing tongue.

She was close… Oh God, she could scarcely _breathe._

Abigail’s legs gave out and Will caught her, carefully maneuvering her onto the floor as her thighs parted in surrender. She wanted more… _moremoremore!_

Dutifully, Will lowered his mouth back to her slit and tilted her hips, helping her take him in as he eagerly devoured her essence. The sensation caused Abigail to scream, her legs hooking over his shoulders as her hips rolled fiercely into his face. She spasmed around his tongue and arched her back, riding out her waves of orgasm with slow, arduous thrusts against his mouth. Will didn’t seem to mind the roughness – his tongue kept working between her legs until he was certain she was sated. He murmured and kissed her thigh, now drawing back to observe her heaving breasts and soft, flushed face with wonder. The knowledge that she was his – _his!_ – still made him slightly giddy.

Abigail reached for him and Will slid into her arms, feeling her mouth open beneath his as she tugged at his hair. She could taste herself on his tongue, sweet and ambrosial, so she licked away her essence in an attempt at tasting him and him alone.

Careful to keep from being further aroused, Will broke the kiss and stroked her hair, now pressing his forehead to hers as he smiled. “Feel better?”

Abigail nodded, mirroring his smile. She still didn’t want him to know the truth about what happened, so she nuzzled against his chest and decided to lie. “I had an accident,” she said. “I got a shower and slipped on the tile, then ended up falling right into the bathroom mirror. It’s…it’s how I got these cuts.”

Will’s brow puckered in concern. “Are you ok? Is there still glass on the floor?”

“No, no, I cleaned it up…everything’s fine now. You just won’t be able to preen for hours in front of your own reflection anymore.”

Will chuckled. “Well, there go my plans for Saturday night.” Smoothing the hair back from her eyes, his expression grew somber as he studied her face. He wanted to ask her about their fight. He could never forget the hurt in her eyes, nor the strong, inexplicable quaver in her voice as she’d shouted at him. But now that Abigail finally seemed calm and collected, he didn’t have the heart to dredge up the past. He would ask later when she’d had time to heal.

“Will?”

He rubbed her back in soft, soothing circles. “Hm?”

“I’m so glad you picked me.”

Feeling her face press into his neck, Will held Abigail strongly and tried to ignore the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me, too.”


	15. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sexual content warning.**

When Abigail entered the kitchen the next morning, she found Will reading a newspaper at the table. Surrounding his feet were several plastic bags.

“Wow, did you actually find a grocery store out here?”

He smiled at her, shaking his head. “We may be the only people for miles, but we’re not _that_ secluded. There’s a general store about 30 minutes from here.”

“And you drove all that way for _this?”_

“Sure, why not? You needed ointment and bandages.” Nudging one of the bags, Will urged, “Go ahead and get them out. If you need any help, let me know.”

Abigail nodded, bending over and rummaging through the first bag. But when she found the necessary items, her eyes also slid to something else… “Condoms?” She looked up at him quizzically.

Will flushed beet-red, now setting the newspaper off to the side. “I…I assumed you weren’t on the pill, so…uh…”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

He looked at her in alarm. “What? Y-you mean you’re…?”

“No. Or at least, I don’t think so.” Chewing her lip, she lifted the box and started to laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to use these things – knowing me, I’ll probably put it on backwards.”

“It’s not that hard…if you want, you can practice on something. I’ve heard people use bananas.”

Abigail giggled. _“Bananas?_ Why can’t I just use you?” Her eyes flashed mischievously and Will swallowed.

“The guy needs to be erect for that, Abigail. That’s why you should use…um…”

“What, are you saying I can’t turn you on?” Still crouching by his legs, she suddenly moved to slide her hands over his knees, feeling him tense up as her palms glided across his thighs. When she reached for his zipper, he promptly caught her hands.

“Abigail, you don’t have to do this…”

“But I want to,” she softly said. “Last night you made me feel good – _real_ good – and I want to do that for you, too.”

Will’s gaze softened. “I didn’t do that expecting a favor, you know. I did it because…because I…”   _love you._  “…I did it because you needed it. Sometimes sex can be cathartic…therapeutic, almost.”

Abigail huffed. “Well if anyone needs therapy, it’s the two of us.”

Will grimaced in agreement. “I don’t plan on having therapy for a long, long time.”

“Even my kind?” Abigail smiled and moved for his belt, but again he stopped her.

 _“Especially_ your kind.” Will’s expression grew dour. “Abigail, I brought you here because I want to know you – _all_ of you – and you need to understand that you’re so much more to me than your body. I don’t want you thinking I only need sex when we’re together.”

Abigail appeared stung. “Is this because you don’t want to have a baby with me?”

 _“What?_ I never s-”

“You said Margot was going to have your child… It seemed like she couldn’t give you what you want, and now that _I_ can give you a baby, you don’t want to touch me.”

Will swallowed. “If you think I need a baby to stay interested in you, you’re wrong.”

“But you lost interest in Margot…”

“That was different, Abigail – we were never actually in a relationship together. A baby would tie you down and take away the freedom you’ve been craving, and…and I don’t want that for you. You deserve to live and experience things before diving into something as big as motherhood.” He smiled sadly. “I’ve been around for a while now, so I guess I’m just starting to feel my own mortality. But you shouldn’t worry about my wants and desires, ok? If I’m meant to have a child, I will. Focus on your own needs before it’s too late.” Eyes twinkling, he teased, “Besides, there are only thirty condoms in that box, so we really need to pace ourselves.”

Abigail broke into a smile, unable to help it. “Can we at least use one tonight?”

He laughed. “Why not two?”

 

* * *

 

Thunder shook and rattled the small cabin, causing Abigail to curl closer into Will’s side. He rubbed her arm, kissing her hair as several candles flickered softly around them.

“At least now we know where the leaks are,” he muttered. In the kitchen, a bucket had been set out to catch errant rainwater.

“I don’t mind the rain,” Abigail mumbled. Lightly touching his stomach, she asked, “Would you mind telling me more, maybe? About your past?”

Will drew a breath. “The past is behind us for a reason, Abigail – we’re never meant to look back.”

“Well if that’s true, how come therapists always want to talk about it?”

Thunder once again shook the little foundation, rattling through the floorboards as Will grimaced. “Hmph, well at least the mood’s right…”

“Oh, c’mon, it can’t be that bad…or at least, not as bad as mine.”

Will looked at her sideways, ashamed. Abigail was right. His childhood _wasn’t_ as bad as hers, but the fact remained that it was still a period of abandonment, loneliness, and despair…a time he never wished to discuss with anyone. Even Dr. Lecter, a nefarious, practiced manipulator had only managed to get a surface view.

“Will?”

He looked down at Abigail, lightly rubbing her shoulders. “Hmm?”

“Are you really going to shut me out? Yesterday you told me you used to cut yourself…if you can tell me that, you can tell me anything.”

Will swallowed. “I just…I’ve never spoken my thoughts aloud before. It would feel wrong, almost.”

“Or freeing,” Abigail shot back. “I sat on my secrets for a long time…so long that I thought it was too late for me. But the minute I confessed, it was like I could breathe again. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“Then tell me everything. As you know, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.” She smiled sadly, though there was a warmth in her eyes…a warmth that thawed Will’s resolve and left him reeling. Why did he believe that he alone should be the unsung protector? Was it so wrong to let Abigail shield him for a change?

“Ok,” he softly agreed. “Where should I start?”

“I think you know where.” Now rising off the couch, Abigail instructed him, “Lean back and close your eyes. No matter what happens, I want you to keep them closed.”

Will smiled wryly. “Are you trying to hypnotize me?”

“No, but I’m hoping to make you feel better… Just do it, ok?”

Still smiling, Will reclined and did as she asked, now feeling her move between his legs.

“Go ahead.”

A bit confused, Will’s smile slowly vanished and he tensed his fists. “I…I grew up surrounded by boats and mechanics…to be honest, I’m beginning to think I was born with a wrench in my hand.” He felt Abigail unfasten his pants, but still he didn’t move. Shivering, he continued, “I always stayed in the boatyard with my dad, and I think my mom resented me for it…kind of like she thought I sided with him over her. Even back then, she hated my dad…she hated _me.”_

Abigail’s hand curled around him and Will jerked, his eyes fluttering as she gently stroked and pulled on his length. “I…uh…” Helpless, he tilted his hips and arched into her touch, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he swallowed low in his throat.

“Keep going,” Abigail urged, her breath warming his tip. Her mouth closed around him then and he groaned, groping at her until his hand found purchase in her soft, dark locks.

Clenching his jaw, he choked out, “She called me worthless…she said I was just like my dad, and I…I’d never amount to anything…that she wished she’d never had me.” Abigail’s tongue swirled around him and he inhaled sharply, giving a subconscious jerk of the hips. “I just… _fuck!_ I-I mean…I wanted her around, but she did everything she could to keep away…I never did figure out why.” His voice broke and he rolled his lips inward, shoulders quaking as he shook his head. “All I ever wanted was for her to love me…”

Abigail moaned softly and slid the tight ring of her mouth down his length, the vibrations of her hungry sighs leaving Will light-headed and breathless. Unable to help it, he began to thrust into her warm, wet mouth, desperately tugging on her hair as his brow beaded with sweat.

Barely able to breathe, he gasped out, “On…on my 9th birthday, she…she left us. We never even got a goodbye note. My dad just…oh, _God.”_ Jerking into Abigail’s mouth more strongly, he choked, “He blamed me…my dad was a good man, but I…I know he never forgave me for what happened.”

Will began to tremble, his chin quivering as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “He passed away when I was 25 – they’re both gone now – and I think they died hating me.” He released a long, quavering breath, practically in tears as Abigail continued to smooth her tongue along his hardness. She moved to pump him with her hand and he twitched, arching into her eager mouth as he felt an all too familiar ache in his loins.

“Abigail,” he rasped. “Abby, I’m going to…I just…”

But she ignored the warning and angled herself around him more strongly, stroking and pulling until she had him writhing and gripping at her hair, his excitement spilling into her mouth as his body gave several deep, wracking shudders.

Swallowing around him (despite the semi-unpleasant taste), Abigail felt him soften and she gently withdrew, now looking up at him with her wide, hopeful eyes. By stimulating him during his story, she’d been hoping to give Will something pleasurable to replace the pain. He’d done that for her and her vices, and she wanted so desperately to free him, too.

She gripped his hands and looked up at him imploringly. “How do you feel?”

There were still tears in his eyes, but Will was smiling. “I feel…pretty ok.” He was surprised by the veracity of this statement. With a chuckle, he warmly touched her cheek. “You, on the other hand, were much more than ‘pretty ok.’”

Relief flooded over Abigail’s face and she smiled, fondly resting her chin on his knee. “Do you really think they died hating you?”

Will’s face darkened and she instantly felt sorry for asking, but he combed his fingers through her hair and nodded. “Yeah…I feel like I was the nail in the coffin for their marriage. They just couldn’t handle me on top of everything else.”

“Well that’s their fault, not yours.” Nuzzling her cheek against his thigh, Abigail hugged his legs and frowned. “Parental love isn’t so great, you know. My dad did some real ugly things out of love. And my mom?” She huffed. “She loved me, but not enough to try and help. I’d still be trapped in that house if it weren’t for you.”

Will’s gaze softened and he stroked her cheek. “C’mere,” he whispered. Now urging her back onto the couch astride him, he cradled her against his chest and kissed her hair. Abigail slid her hand beneath his shirt and touched his scar, her thighs parting over his naked hips as her mouth opened against his neck. He tasted like sweat and earth against her tongue, his breath hitching as her lips trailed down the bared expanse of his throat. Her heart was filled to bursting in that moment. What was it about physical expression that was so much easier than words? When they were like this, Abigail knew Will loved her, and she _knew_ he wanted her. The girls were wrong.

They had to be.


	16. A Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sexual content.**

Abigail’s hair brushed the cabin flooring as she remained on her knees, lips parted and hips jerking as Will pounded into her from behind. Each thrust had her reeling with pleasure, her limbs trembling as he kissed and nipped along her skin. “Will,” she breathed, “Will, _please…”_

Nails scratching against the wood grain, Abigail pitched forward and tilted her hips, now using her remaining strength to back into him as he moved urgently inside her.

Groaning into her ear, Will shuddered and collapsed against her back, his hand sliding over hers as she yelped and bowed forward. With her forehead touching the floor, Abigail moaned and felt her insides massaging his girth.

Still remaining draped over her body, Will struggled for breath and kissed his way toward her neck.

Abigail sighed sweetly. “So what was that, condom number six?”

“Seven, actually, but who’s counting?”

“Ah. Well so much for our relationship not being about sex…”

Will chuckled, now rolling over onto his side. “I didn’t say I’d never touch you, you know… I’m not a monk.”

“Hmph. Definitely not.” Smiling up at him, Abigail touched his cheek and huddled in closer. “I know I said I wanted to try every position, but I didn’t really like that one… It’s no fun if I can’t kiss you.”

“Funny, ‘cause from where I was standing – excuse me, _leaning_ – you didn’t seem overly upset.”

“Shut up.”

Moving to strike him with a couch pillow, Abigail shrieked when Buster dove in between them and began leaping with excitement. “Will, control your hairy beast!”

He laughed. “He just wants to play!”

“While I’m _naked?_ I don’t think so!” Getting up off the floor, Abigail successfully whacked Will with the pillow, then yelped when he managed to wrench her down into his arms. “Get off, get _off!”_

Will responded by raining kisses across her face and neck, her shrieks only encouraging his bad behavior. Her cries unfortunately also instigated little Buster, who was now leaping onto her back and trying to get in the middle of their embrace. “Would you two get _off_ me? Jesus!”

Will moved to give a playful retort, but that’s when the sound of knocking reached their ears.

Abigail paled. “Oh shit, is that Margot? She’s early!”

Rolling up into a sitting position, Will grabbed his robe as Abigail panicked and rushed to their shared bedroom.

“I can’t let her see me like this!”

“Well why not?” Will called after her. “The view’s not _that_ terrible…” If she’d had another pillow, he knew it would be hurtling right toward his face. “I’ll get the door,” he assured her. “You stay there.”

Once Abigail had locked herself in their room, Will approached the door and caught sight of himself in the hall mirror. His eyes were bright and shining, his hair was…messy, to say the least, and his skin was flushed all over. Great. This would be harder to explain than he thought.

Putting on his best “I didn’t just fuck my ward” face, Will opened the door and smiled. “Hey there, Margot, uh…are you early?”

She scoffed. _“Early?_   Will, it’s one in the afternoon…” Her eyes drifted to his robe and she smirked. “Wow, nice look for you there, Heff. Where are your Playmates?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know, Playboy? Hugh Heffner? C’mon, you can’t be _that_ naïve…” Sighing, she motioned impatiently behind him. “Are you going to let me in, or what?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course…sorry.” Stepping back to allow her room to pass, Will cleared his throat and discreetly glanced toward his bedroom.

“Sooo, you and Abigail, huh?”

“What?”

Margot rolled her eyes. “I may be a lesbian, but I’m not naïve. You’ve got the sleepy, sated look of a man well taken care of, and I’ll bet you any amount of money that when Abigail comes out of hiding, she’ll look exactly the same.”

“W-well…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I think it’s kind of sweet that you two came together…er…no pun intended.”

Abigail chose that moment to enter the room.

“Hey there, kiddo! You sure look well-rested…” Margot winked at Will, then pulled the girl in for a tight hug. “I’m so glad to see you all healthy and happy! What’ve you been doing?”

“Oh, uh…lots and lots of exercise.”

Margot sneered, trying her best not to laugh. “Right, of course…I’ll bet your favorite position’s the Downward Dog.”

_“What?”_

“For Yoga, obviously!” She linked her arm through Abigail’s. “C’mon, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now…surely Loverboy can spare you for five minutes.”

Abigail flushed all over, but didn’t protest as Margot began leading her toward the back door. Once they were outside, they congregated onto the large wraparound porch.

A hush overfell the two, and Abigail couldn’t help but feel anxious. “So what did you want to talk about?” she asked.

Margot’s cheerful façade instantly vanished. “Abby, Will called me the night of the party… Is it true that you left after Mason’s announcement?”

Abigail bowed her head, then slowly nodded.

“Ok, so how much do you know about what happened between Will and me?”

“Not much,” Abigail confessed. “All I know is you two slept together and tried to have a baby…or something like that. You obviously didn’t have one, so I guess something went wrong.”

Margot’s eyes puddled as if she’d been slapped. “Yeah…something like that,” she agreed. “As you can imagine, my brother’s a real bad guy, Abigail. Do you remember how I said he could never let me go?” When she nodded, Margot said, “Well, I thought I had an escape plan through Will…if I could get myself an heir, I would be free.” She smiled sadly. “But life doesn’t always work out the way we expect.”

“Why, what happened?”

Margot exhaled through her nose, now leaning against the porch bannister. “When Mason found out I was pregnant, he forced me to abort the baby. I never even knew if it was a boy or a girl…” Subconsciously, she touched her stomach and looked overhead, eyes distant and pained as she gazed into the horizon.

Abigail quivered. “Oh Margot, I’m so sorry… I had no idea that-”

“It’s ok,” she cut in. “I just wanted you to know that Will and I were never together… I mean yeah, we had sex and we’re pretty good friends, but you shouldn’t view me as a threat. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.” Margot smiled wistfully. “Will’s got those deep, guarded eyes – impenetrable, almost – but when you walk into a room, they light up and come alive. In a way, I envy you…not because of Will, but because you have someone who loves you that much.”

Abigail appeared skeptical. “Do you really think he loves me?”

“Would I be telling you all this if I didn’t?” Margot shook her head. “Sometimes it’s amazing how alike you two are…you’re both blind and stubborn as mules.”

Twisting her hands, Abigail felt a twinge of guilt as she appraised the other woman. “Thank you… I know this must’ve been real hard for you, but you told me anyway. That was really brave.”

Margot snorted. “It’s not brave to talk about something that’s always on my mind. To be honest, I did it for myself. I never really got to tell anyone about this before… I mean yeah, Will knew everything, but that’s ‘cause I had a doctor there to fill him in. I didn’t even have to say a word.”

Hesitantly, Abigail reached out and wrapped her arms around Margot’s waist. The wordless act of comfort brought tears to the other woman’s eyes, but she refused to cry. There was no sense in grieving for what never could have been. Clearing her throat, she put an arm around Abigail and said, “C’mon, it’s getting hot out here. Let’s go inside and have some lunch.”

 

* * *

 

As the three friends ate, Abigail watched both Will and Margot from her side of the table. It should’ve been awkward sitting there with the two of them, all things considered, but her fears had been assuaged the moment Margot confessed. How could she have ever doubted them? Yes, they were clearly comfortable with each other, but their body language was relaxed and familiar, not soft and intimate like two lovers trying to keep a secret. They’d both been truthful in their efforts and had only wanted what was best for her.

Biting her lip, Abigail shyly glanced at Will and thought of touching his hand, but ultimately knew the PDA would embarrass him. Instead, she helped herself to more mashed potatoes and listened to him prattle on about fishing, the weather, and his dogs’ wild antics. Didn’t he know how to talk about anything else?

Setting her fork down, Abigail decided to commandeer the conversation. “Will?”

He looked surprised. “Yes?”

“I’d like to go into town later, if that’s alright… We’ve been out here for over two months now, and I haven’t had the chance to look around.”

Will appeared uncertain. “I…sure,” he hesitantly agreed. “After dinner, I can drive you.”

“Can I drive myself? I never do anything on my own anymore.”

Helplessly, Will looked to Margot, but she shook her head, not wanting to be involved. He sighed and agreed, “Alright, but I want you to call me if you need anything. I mean that, ok?”

“Of course…I need to make sure you let me out of my cage again.”

Even though it had been a joke, Will couldn’t help but grimace. Was that how she really felt? Did she find his affections suffocating?

Ignoring Margot’s questioning glance, Will rose from the table and muttered something about being excused. When he went out the back door, Margot looked to Abigail and shrugged. “I guess this means I’ve got to go talk to him now, too?”

“If you’d like,” Abigail grumbled. “Men are big babies, that’s all. He can’t handle that I don’t want his help with everything.” Rising from the table, she added, “Even so, you should probably tell him I’m doing this for me…that I’d like to be an adult for a change.”

“Sure, I can tell him that.”

Nodding, Abigail dumped her dishes into the sink with a clatter, then turned and wiped her hands on her jeans. “While you do that, I’ll go take a walk to the creek. I don’t want to influence you guys by being here, so just…I dunno…tell him whatever you think’s best.”

Margot smiled. “You got it, kiddo. Go on, ok? Just like babies, men need to be defused ASAP.”

Abigail laughed, nodding as she headed for the front door.

 

* * *

 

When Abigail returned, dusk was starting to bleed sleepily into the horizon. Smiling to herself, she headed into the cabin and looked around, feeling pleasant and refreshed. Maybe Will and Margot were still on the porch?

Going over to the back entrance, she peered through the glass and squinted at her friends. She couldn’t really tell what they were saying (the murmurs were far too soft), but to her surprise, it seemed like _Margot_ was the one currently upset. What had happened?

Concerned, Abigail moved to come out onto the porch, but froze the moment Will took Margot by the shoulders. His eyes were soft and filled with something tragic (longing, perhaps?), and he briefly touched her cheek before pulling her in for a warm, tight embrace.

Abigail stepped back, feeling as if someone had just crushed her lungs.

“I told you he could never love you.”

Whirling around, Abigail quivered and clapped her hands over her ears. “Go away!”

“And miss the show? Yeah, right.” Moving over to her side, Marissa smirked and peered out at the embracing duo. “I’m betting any second now that they’re gonna kiss…how ‘bout you?”

“You’re wrong! They’re just friends!”

“Oh, yeah?” Marissa snickered. “Since when do you take people at their word? Kind of naïve, don’t you think?”

Helplessly, Abigail looked back to Will and Margot and took in their close proximity – the soft, gentle way Will kept rubbing her back as she nuzzled into his chest. In that moment, Abigail imagined Will was enjoying Margot’s company in a way he never had with her, captivated by her conversation and wanting nothing more than to be her only support.

Marissa was right…how could she _not_ be? Will would never want someone as monstrous as her! He may have said he’d forgiven her for her faults, but he probably only wanted an easy lay while his _true_ lover was within arm’s reach.

Breaking away from the sight, Abigail ignored Marissa’s laughter and went racing for the front door. If Will didn’t want her, she’d be sure to give him exactly what he wanted.


	17. Paying the Price

Margot wasn't quite sure how it happened, but somewhere along the line, her conversation with Will had turned toward their unborn child. Instantly, Will had taken her into his arms as she wept, proving yet again that he was one of the few people she could trust.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffling. “I know it’s weird, but helping Abigail has made me feel like a mom again… She’s reminded me of what I could’ve been for our baby.”

Will gently rubbed her back. “It’s not weird… In case you’re forgetting, I felt the same way about Abigail ‘til recently.”

Margot laughed amidst her tears. “Yeah, you’re kind of a sick fuck.”

“Hey!”

Laughing again, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I hope your protectiveness isn’t based on all your loss. It’s ok to let Abigail discover herself, you know…even if you’re not the one to guide her.”

Will sheepishly scuffed his shoe against the porch. “I know, I just…I worry about her. I can’t help it.”

“Well, you’d be inhuman if you didn’t care at least a little.” Margot shrugged. “Just give her some room to breathe, ok? She deserves that after all she’s been through.”

“But-”

“Seriously, Will. If you can show Abigail that you trust her, it’ll mean the world to her.”

Will huffed, though he was smiling. “Were you a therapist in your past life? Or maybe a priest? ‘Cause you always have the best counsel.”

Margot grinned. “Definitely not a priest – I look pretty “eh” in black – but being a rich doctor who told people what to do? Definitely a possibility.”

Chuckling, Will led her back into the house and looked around. “Hey, Abby? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Silence.

“Abigail?”

As Will searched through the cabin, Margot noticed the ajar bedroom door and peeked inside. Nothing…

Will came rushing back to her then, pale and flustered as he peered into the same bedroom. “Margot, have you seen Abigail? Did she say if she was going anywhere?”

“Will, relax! She told me she was taking a walk by the creek. Even though I would’ve thought she’d be back by now, I’m sure she’s just admiring the sights. Like I’ve said before, you two are far too alike.”

Will appeared unconvinced. “I’d better go look for her… If she’s taking the scenic route, it’d actually be the perfect place to talk.”

Margot shook her head. “No, you shouldn’t…what’d I just tell you about trusting her?”

“I need to do this, ok? She’s important to me, and I’d never forgive myself if…if…” Unable to finish the thought, he sighed and opened the front door. “Do me a favor and search the grounds, would you? Just in case she’s not at the creek?”

Margot nodded, but didn’t appear pleased. “Alright, but I’m telling you, Will, she’s going to be at the creek. But on the off-chance that I _do_ find her, what would you like me to do?”

Will thought a moment, then said, “I’ll go up to the creek and stay put. Even if she’s already there, we’ll wait for you so we can head back together.”

Margot nodded. “Alright, sounds good – I’ll go check the grounds out back.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Will reached the creek, he was already fearing the worst. Despite not being a hunter, he’d used his skills of deduction (or tried to) and hadn’t found any tracks, old or otherwise.

Panicked and miserable, Will raked a hand through his hair and looked around. It had rained the night before, so if Abigail had actually been there, her footprints would’ve shown up in the pliant earth. Feet squelching through mud, Will went closer toward the bank’s edge. Perhaps there was something he’d missed?

Unfortunately, the bank was at a fairly steep incline and, given the newly dampened earth, Will felt the mud slip right out from under his feet. He pitched forward, stunned, before rolling down the hill and cracking the back of his skull against a large, uneven rock along the creek’s edge. His world went black not long after.

 

* * *

 

 

When Margot finally found Abigail, she was beside herself with relief. Between swatting mosquitoes and ruining her expensive, Italian leather boots in the mud, she’d suddenly decided that she wasn’t a nature person.

“Abby!” she greeted. “Where have you been?”

Paling, Abigail leapt up from her perch and went racing toward the path along the hill, ignoring her friend’s shouts as she struggled to keep up with her.

“Abby, what the hell’s the _matter_ with you?!” Margot gasped out. “You’ve got Will so worried…please, you need to stop this!”

Abigail finally _did_ stop, but not with compliance. Viciously spinning around, she hissed, “Why should I? He has _you,_ doesn’t he?”

“What?” Margot eyed her queerly. “Are we seriously going to do this song and dance again? I told you that Will and I are just-”

“I _saw_ you!” Voice quaking, Abigail blinked back tears and hugged herself. “You were on the porch, and…and it looked like you were going to kiss!”

“Why, because we were _hugging?”_ Margot was angry now. “Quit being such a selfish brat, Abigail! In case you’re forgetting, _Will_ lost a baby, too – is it so horrible that I wanted someone to talk to about it? Someone who could _understand?_ As much as I love you, you never could’ve been that person…our talk made me realize I’m still not over what happened.”

Abigail paled, suddenly feeling sick. “You mean…you were just talking about the baby?”

Margot nodded.

“Oh, God…” Recalling Will’s tender actions, Abigail turned away and swallowed back her tears. Margot was right…she really _was_ selfish! How could she have been so blind?

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so, _so_ sorry…”

Margot’s hand was on her shoulder then, soft and gentle as she turned the girl around. “Will’s waiting for us by the creek. Maybe you should tell him how sorry you are, instead.”

Abigail nodded, sniffling as she wiped her eyes.

 

* * *

 

The walk to the creek wasn’t terribly long, but it was uphill – that meant more mud and more muscle pain. Margot muttered to herself as her boots sank into the earth. After a few more moments of huffing and puffing, she reached the top and surveyed the scene, but what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks. Abigail thudded into her from behind, startled.

“What? What is it?”

“Wait here.”

“Why? If Will’s down there, I want to talk with him.”

“Just stay _put,_ goddammit!”

Furiously wrenching out of Margot’s grasp, Abigail pushed around her with impatience. But when she saw the pale, crumpled body along the creek’s edge, a cry lodged in her throat and she wavered, suddenly feeling as if she’d been hit in the chest with a ton of bricks. Margot reached for her, but again she shook the other woman off, hearing nothing but her pounding heart as she urgently slid down the bank. “Will?” she beseeched. _“Will!”_

Already in tears, Abigail dropped down to her knees and began patting his face, feeling the mud seep into her jeans as she shook his shoulders.

“Abby, _stop!”_

Margot was at her side in an instant, gruffly pulling her back. Abigail screamed and struggled in her grasp, arms outstretched as she sobbed piteously.

“Abby, you could _hurt_ him! If we’re going to help, we need to be smart about this! _Abigail!”_ Now cupping the girl’s face, Margot watched the tears roll down her cheeks as her bottom lip quivered. “I need you to listen to me, ok? I’m going to call an ambulance, but while I do that, I need you to keep him warm. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Abigail nodded, her eyes almost unseeing. She knew it was a relatively pointless task, given how warm it was outside, but she was grateful to Margot for trying to keep her included.

When Margot walked off to make the call, Abigail returned to Will’s side and checked his vitals. He was still breathing… Sucking in a quaking breath, she brushed the hair from his eyes and slid her hand down his cheek. He was cold to the touch…almost like stone.

Lifting him by the shoulders, Abigail carefully moved him off the rock and placed his head into her lap, now combing her fingers through his blood-matted hair as she shivered. The rock he’d hit was stained a deep, dark red.

“Abby?”

Trembling, she looked up and saw Margot heading toward her. “The ambulance is on its way. In the meantime, we should probably elevate him to try and stop the bleeding.”

Abigail nodded, still combing Will’s hair as his blood soaked into her jeans. He was so pale…oh God, he was _dying!_

Now helping Margot sit him up, she embraced him from behind and rested his head against her shoulder, not caring that her clothes were now damp and stained. She rubbed his arms to try and retain some of his body warmth, then looked to her friend with heartbreaking defeat. “Margot… Do you think he’ll be ok?”

The other woman averted her eyes, unable to answer.

 


	18. Bad News

Abigail sat blankly in the waiting room, pale and drawn as she clutched a handkerchief between her shaking hands. Before assistance had arrived, she’d held Will to her breast and had refused to let go – the bloody evidence was now staining her clothes like a crime scene. Even though the medics had been resilient, Abigail knew what their resolve meant…she’d survived far too many emergencies to _not_ know.

“Abby?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes remaining unfocused as Margot came and sat beside her.

“Abby, I brought you a change of clothes.”

“I don’t want them.”

Sighing, Margot set down the shopping bag and touched the girl’s wrist. “While I was gone, did you get a chance to speak with the doctors?”

Abigail swallowed. “No…they won’t tell me anything.” Trying her best not to cry, she said to her friend, “You know what’s funny? I remember I used to hate him…that I wished he’d just disappear.” She miserably closed her eyes. “How come fate only listens when you’ve changed your mind? When you’ve decided you can’t live without someone? No matter what I do, everyone I love ends up hurt or dead!”

Margot winced. “Abby, you need to know that-”

“Don’t,” she bleakly cut in. “This is what I deserve.” Rolling the handkerchief between her hands, tears spilled down her cheeks as she trembled. “It hardly seems fair though, does it? That after all Will’s been through, _this_ is what finally does him in.”

Margot shook her head. “We don’t know that… He might survive this.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Abigail hissed. “Will’s _dying,_ Margot, and I might as well’ve pushed him down that hill myself!”

A throat cleared and both women looked up, paling when they realized the doctor was heading toward them.

“Are you the ones who brought in Mr. Graham?”

Abigail quivered, suddenly feeling faint. “He’s dead, isn’t he? Oh God, he’s _dead!”_

“What? No, no, no, he’s not dead,” the doctor quickly assured her. “We’ve actually been able to stabilize your friend.”

“But?” Margot asked, detecting the underlying grimness.

 _“But_ we haven’t been able to revive him. I’m afraid the blow rendered him comatose.”

Abigail suddenly forgot how to breathe. She latched onto Margot’s arm, desperate, now gripping so tightly that the bones began to grind together.

“Abby? Abby, you’re hurting me…”

Margot’s words warbled in and out of Abigail’s subconscious like a small, metallic coin descending a well. Though she wasn’t fully processing what was being said, she could detect her friend’s soft, gentle tone and felt the fight drain out of her. As her posture slumped, it was almost as if she were a marionette whose strings had been cut. She leaned into the other woman, sobbing into her shoulder as Margot stroked her hair.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” the doctor softly said.

Neither woman responded, both clinging to the other as Abigail’s sobs rose to a fevered pitch.

 

* * *

 

“Fifteen minutes,” the nurse said, reminding Abigail that she didn’t have long to visit. The girl nodded, ashen-faced and fragile as the door shut behind her. Now it was just her and Will. Almost instantly, the room seemed to get ten times smaller and she lost her breath, her hands wringing as she approached the bed.

“Will?” she called, feeling foolish for speaking. “Will, it’s me…” Biting her lip, Abigail moved to his side and peered down at him. A breathing tube obstructed his mouth from view, and the first absurd thought she had was she couldn’t revive him with a kiss. This wasn’t a fairytale…this was a nightmare. A nightmare of her own creation.

Shakily pushing back a lock of his hair, Abigail leaned over and kissed the coolness of his forehead. It hurt that he was unable to kiss her back.

Carefully crawling onto the bed beside him, she curled against his flank and wrapped his arm around her. When she didn’t feel the warm, reassuring strength of his embrace, tears blurred her vision and she buried her face against his chest. Was this the price for condemning those girls to die? Was this her punishment for not killing herself? She shivered as another thought entered her mind...

Back when Will and Abigail had laid dying on Hannibal’s cold, dark hardwood floors, Will had reached out to her and touched her arm, invoking her to return to him with his feeble touch. But that hadn’t been enough. Deep within the bleak recesses of her mind, she’d heard him whisper, soft and faint as he pleaded, _“Don’t let go,”_ and then his hand had gently interlocked with hers.

Somehow, it had worked…

With tears pooling in her eyes, Abigail grasped Will’s clammy hand and lifted it to her lips. As she kissed his palm, she bit back a sob and pleaded against his skin, “Don’t let go…”

Will’s heart monitor beeped steadily in response, reaffirming the fact that she had no one but herself to blame.


	19. Abandoned Hope

Dipping her toes into soft, white sand, Abigail reclined in a fold-out chair and smiled, feeling Will’s hand interlock with hers and his lips trace her forehead. Somewhere inside she knew this was a dream – she _knew_ they weren’t there together enjoying the fading sun – but for the sake of her own heart, she refused to break the spell and return to the harsh reality of odorous, foul-smelling halls and cold, sterile waiting rooms.

“Will?”

He nuzzled into her cheek, smiling. “Yeah?”

“Do you think we could go away for a while? Like…without Margot and the dogs?”

His smile gradually faded. “You know we can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t come with you…”

“But _why_ , Will?”

Cupping her face, he slid his hand down her cheek and shook his head. “You shouldn’t ask what you aren’t ready to hear.”

Abigail tightly gripped at his wrists, her chin quivering. “You can’t be giving up now…you _can’t_ leave me behind!”

“Abby…”

“Please,” she begged, _“please,_ Will… I need you so bad.” Tears streaked her cheeks as their eyes met. It took her a moment to realize that he was crying, too.

Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. “I won’t be coming home with you.”

“Why?” Abigail spat, angry now. “Don’t you care about me? Don’t you care about _us?”_

“Of course I-”

“You’re a coward!” she growled. “A goddamn _coward!”_ Shoving him away, she sobbed when he pulled her back into his arms, cradling her as she wept against his chest. “You can’t go,” she whimpered. “You _can’t._ I was always told I’m strong, but I can’t take another loss…not when it’s you.”

“Abby…”

“You’re all I _have!”_ she screamed, thrashing in his arms. “Is it me? Is this ‘cause I’ve hurt people?”

Will calmed her with a single stroke of the hair, his voice soft and soothing as he convinced her to recline. Abigail obeyed, tearful and silent, feeling him urge her head into his lap as he continued to run his fingers through her long, dark locks. She sniffed and he paused to wipe an errant tear from her cheek. He kept whispering his assurances, but Abigail no longer heard them – it was just the sweet, gentle combing of his fingers that kept her grounded. She wanted to confess that she loved him – that she was hopelessly _in_ love with him – but her eyes grew heavy, and she found herself sinking into the welcoming arms of repose.

The stroking continued.

With a soft sigh, Abigail opened her eyes again and blinked, startled when she realized she could still feel fingers in her hair. They were in the hospital room… She was awake and she could _feel_ him!

“Will?” Overcome with emotion, Abigail lurched up and grasped his wrist, but soon realized that the tender touch had not been his own…

She glanced behind her, seeing Margot standing there with a piteous look on her face. “Hey there, kiddo.”

When Abigail finally put two and two together, she began to cry.

“Oh no, c’mon…please don’t.” Sitting down beside her, Margot touched her arm and studied her gaunt face. “Abby, you’ve been here for over a week now, and the doctors tell me you won’t shower or leave his side. I’m glad to hear you’re eating a little, but Jell-O is hardly a good, healthy diet for a young woman.” She squeezed the girl’s hand. “I want you to come home with me. If you get the proper chance to rest up, you’ll feel so much better.”

“Will I?” The words were spat from Abigail’s lips like bile. “How can I ever ‘feel better’ if Will’s here?”

“The doctors are optimistic,” Margot said. “Apparently he fell on the strongest part of his skull, so the damage he suffered was minimal.” She smiled thinly. “Wait ‘til I tell him he was saved by his own thick skull.”

Abigail didn’t even smile. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Sighing, Margot rose from the bed and folded her arms. “Abby, this needs to stop. Do you really think this is what Will wants for you?”

“Maybe,” she coolly said. “Maybe he hates me and thinks I should’ve been hurt instead…I know I do.” She turned and touched Will’s face, tears blurring her vision. “I had a dream about him, Margot… He told me he couldn’t come with me.”

“Dreams are just expressions of our fears.”

“Not this one!” Abigail cried, her voice shrill. “He kept telling me he couldn’t come, and no matter how I begged and pleaded, his answer was always the same…” Her face grew pale and bloodless. “I think he’s tired of fighting.”

“Abby, he’s not dead…”

“No, but he might as well be!” Wiping her eyes, she rose and grabbed her purse off the chair. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“What?” Margot was stunned. _“Where?”_

“Anywhere but here… Will hates me, so maybe he’ll get better if I’m not around.”

“Abby, he could _never_ hate you…”

There were tears in the girl’s eyes, but she kept walking. Margot sighed and followed after her.

As the door shut behind them, a faint, barely perceptible tremor came from Will’s left hand.


	20. The Ugly Truth

Will's eyelids fluttered, then a low, hazy glow filtered across his vision. As everything came into focus, he squinted until the outline of a man came into view.

"Hello there, Mr. Graham."

"You," Will choked, feeling his body tense up. "Where…where's Abigail?"

"Why should I tell you? You're the one who took her away from me, remember?" Sullen and accusatory, Garrett Jacob Hobbs rose from his hospital chair and moved in closer, now giving Will a clear view of his gaping wounds.

Will shuddered. "Am I…?"

 _"Dead?_   Oh no, just in limbo, I guess…though I would've been a fitting guide into the underworld, don't you think?"

Will swallowed, slowly opening and closing his eyes. "Are you here because of Abigail?"

"Now why would I be here for her? She had her chance! No, no…" He smiled coldly. "I'm here for  _you,_  Mr. Graham. I came to make sure you carry on my legacy…I need a successor, you know. And since Abigail won't do it, I thought, hey! Why not you?"

Will began to grow dizzy, his head whirring like a thousand frantic, buzzing locusts. "I can't," he choked. "I  _won't."_

"You can, and you  _will,"_   Hobbs corrected. "After all, who was the one who thrilled in the recreation of my murders? Who thrilled in killing  _me?"_

"I…I didn't, I just-"

"Don't worry, it'll be just like passing on the crown. That's how it worked with Abigail, didn't it?" He sneered. "You thought that when I croaked, you had to become her dad instead…that the honor was passed on to you just 'cause I died at your hand. But tell me: since when does  _intimacy_  go under the roles of fatherhood?"

Will trembled. "I-I'm not her father…"

"No," Hobbs agreed, "you're not, which is why killing her will be so much easier for you than it was for me. As I've said, you need to continue my legacy, Mr. Graham…continue by finishing what I started."

"No! You know I won't do that!" With an unexpected surge of strength, Will launched up from his bed and reached for Hobbs' throat. But just as he moved to wrap his hands around the other man's neck, he was pulled back by a multitude of medicinal wires, and a wild, frantic beeping trilled maddeningly at his left-hand side. Will moved to cry out, but found a breathing tube obstructing his mouth.

As medical personnel began to swarm into the room, the only thing he could think of was Abigail and how he needed to protect her…of how he needed to protect her from  _himself._

 

* * *

 

Margot and Abigail were at a restaurant when they got the news. Margot set down her cell phone and looked to the other woman with bright, enthusiastic eyes. "That was the hospital," she said. "Apparently Will just woke up."

A plethora of emotions crossed Abigail's face – joy, fear, confusion, and sadness – but the last of these was what remained the longest. "That means he hates me," she whispered. "Remember? I said he might finally wake up if I left him alone, and…he did."

"Oh, Abigail, it's only a coincidence! Can't you just be happy that he's ok?"

"I  _am_  happy! I just wish I'd left sooner, that's all…" She whisked a tear from the bottom curve of her eye, not wishing to cry in public. "Are they allowing visitors yet?"

"In about thirty minutes," Margot said. Now looking sternly to her friend, she added, "I expect you to be there. No more of this 'he hates me' bullshit, ok? I think you two need a nice, long talk to sort everything out."

"Fine," Abigail agreed, though she was far from bitter. "I've been meaning to tell him everything, so I guess now's as good a time as any."

"Everything?"

Abigail nodded. "Everything."

Their waitress came back to pick up their plates, and Abigail noticed Margot blush as she gathered up their dishes. Judy (as her nametag suggested) had been rather talkative, as far as most servers go, but only to Margot. Normally Abigail would tease her (and perhaps even try to get them to swap numbers), but she was far too preoccupied with what she needed to tell Will. Being a good friend would unfortunately have to be put on hold.

 

* * *

 

When the nurse showed Abigail into Will's room, she was surprised to find him sitting up with a tray of food in front of him. But instead of eating, he only seemed to be pushing the mush around in a circle.

"Hi, Will."

He paused, looking up with what appeared to be fear. His expression cut her deep. Now lingering by the door, Abigail watched him as he watched her – a stark comparison of blue on blue.

Will pushed his plate aside, looking gaunt and pale as he swallowed. Forcing himself to return Abigail's gaze, his mouth fell open when Garrett Jacob Hobbs suddenly appeared behind her. A small, curved hunting blade whisked beneath Abigail's chin, but she neither dignified it nor seemed aware of her father's presence.

"No," Will pleaded. "No, no,  _no!"_

The blade jerked across Abigail's throat and Will cried out, shoving his tray onto the floor before clapping his hands over his eyes. He could feel someone trying to pry his hands back down, but he jerked away from them, trembling and moaning along with his anguish.

"Will," a voice called. "Will, it's me!"

He froze, still shaking as a hand stroked through his hair. "Abigail," he whispered, her name catching like hard candy in his throat.

She nodded, now encouraging him to lower his arms. When he finally did, she found herself gazing into the deep, haunted blue eyes she'd thought would never open again. A lump formed in her throat and she trembled.

"You're ok," Will whispered. It was a statement more than a question, and he startled Abigail when he reached out and touched her throat. His thumb traced her scar in a gentle, hesitant arc.

"Yes, I…I'm ok." There was a catch in her voice and Will looked up, regarding her with his large, searching eyes.

"You're shaking…"

Abigail pulled away from him and sniffed, fighting back tears as she looked down at her lap. "I have so much I want to tell you, but I…I don't know where to start…" Anxiously wringing her hands, she closed her eyes and shrugged. "It all just hurts so bad, Will…like I'm being torn apart from the inside out."

He looked at her pityingly, and she suddenly laughed, clapping a hand over her mouth as her giggles escalated in shrillness.  _"God!"_  she cried, startling him. "Margot was right – I really  _am_  a selfish brat! Even after all the pain I've just put you through, I'm  _still_  only thinking about myself and worrying how  _I_  am going to handle this! I wanted to tell you I'm sorry, but I'd be lying, wouldn't I? I'm not sorry 'cause I'm a jealous, manipulative  _bitch!"_

She burst into tears and Will stared at her, silent and overwhelmed as he tried to absorb her words.

"I…I don't understand…" he finally said.

"It's my fault," she hissed. "Haven't you ever noticed? Anytime anyone I know gets hurt,  _I_  am the one behind it! If I'd just listened to Margot and accepted that you two aren't fucking, we wouldn't be sitting here right now!"

Will tensed. "You didn't push me, Abigail…it's not your faul-"

 _"Stop_  saying that!" she screamed. "Just stop fucking  _lying_  and tell me the truth! I'm not some perfect, pure vision of sugary goodness, Will! I never was! I killed Boyle and liked it, and I killed  _Alana_  and liked it, too!"

Will quivered, his eyes growing damp. "You don't mean that…"

"Why? Because the 'perfect me' wouldn't mean it? Is  _that_   what you're trying to say?"

"Abigail, keep your voice down…"

"I'll scream as loud as I want! If you can't accept the real me, that is  _not_   my problem!" Bottom lip quivering, Abigail's chest heaved as she hiccupped along with her sobs. Deep inside, a part of her felt vindictive pleasure in seeing the silent, disbelieving pain in Will's eyes. This was who she was. She couldn't help that she'd seen her father's ghost in Boyle, and she couldn't  _help_  that she'd seen her mother in Alana – that's what had made her feel so good and righteous in murdering them. If Will couldn't accept her inner flaws, that was  _his_  concern, not hers.

"I don't know why you could never see it," Abigail said, finally finding her voice again. "Hannibal saw it…he  _knew_  who I was and didn't pretend I was some perfect princess. I don't want to hurt people anymore, Will, but back when I did, I finally felt in control of my life…like I had something that could ground me." She closed her eyes. "I really did feel badly about the girls, but at the same time, I liked the attention my dad gave me…I  _liked_   the approval and I  _needed_   his praises. I know it's fucked up, but I felt closer to him somehow… He might've been a monster, but he was still my dad."

Abigail looked up again, seeing the grave mask Will's face had become. With a deep breath, she crossed her legs and anxiously jiggled her foot. "There's more, you know… When I was in Hannibal's basement, he…he made me do things. _Bad_   things."

Will finally reacted, his lips parting as the blood drained from his face. "You mean…?"

"No, no, nothing like that…" Abigail winced, no longer able to take his eyes on her. "One time someone came downstairs – a woman – but Hannibal got to her before she could help me. I think she was a friend of yours."

She heard Will draw a breath. "Beverly…"

"Yeah…I think that's what her ID said." Rubbing her arm, Abigail shivered and blurted, "Hannibal made me help him…I had to drain her blood and store her in the freezer so he…so he could finish his work."

Silence grew thickly between them then – so thick that Abigail felt as if she were drowning.

"Will," she begged, "please say something…"

His eyes were suddenly angry. "And did you enjoy that, too?"

"N-no, I-"

"Well, why not? She was an innocent, wasn't she? That seems to be your only criteria!"

"You're not being fair!"

 _"Fair?_  I'll tell you what isn't 'fair': Beverly Katz is dead now because she wanted to help, and Alana Bloom is, too!"

"You're not perfect, either!" Abigail growled. "You're  _not!_  I'll never forget how Hannibal told me you felt when you killed my dad…you  _know_   how good it can feel, so don't bullshit me with this godlier than thou crap! I know who you are!"

Will grew white and clenched his teeth, quivering as their eyes deadlocked. He wanted to scream at her that she was right – that he was horrible and monstrous and needed to be locked away – but the words died on his tongue and shriveled up like the illusion of Abigail's pure, perfect goodness.

"Will? Will, you're bleeding…"

He looked down, realizing that amidst their fight, he'd torn the IV's out of his arm. Angry red welts rose amidst puddles of carmine.

Abigail moved over to him then, but he jerked away from her, quavering as she touched his bloody forearm. Tears filled her eyes and she bent over, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to his small wounds. The blood on her lips unnerved him.

"Will, you need to know that I no longer expect anything from you…" She lifted her large, injured eyes and nailed him in place with her stare. "At first I wanted you to love me back, have a family, and maybe even marry me, but now I want you.  _Just_   you." She bit her lip, tightening her hold on his arm. "I know it's pathetic, but I still need you around…even if you hate me and can't ever love me again, I just want you there.  _Please…"_   She cringed. "I…I don't know what I'd do without you… This whole thing made me realize that."

An unbearable quiet throbbed between them and Abigail pulled away, receiving his message loud and clear. "Fine," she whispered, "ok… I'll go now." Gathering up her purse, Abigail wiped her eyes and headed over to the door. But for just a moment she paused, hand lingering on the doorknob as her shoulders quaked. Turning back to him, she quietly said, "I want you to remember that you used to be a monster, Will…and if you could forgive yourself for that, I'd like to think you could eventually forgive me, too." She spared him one last pained look, then quickly stepped out before she could change her mind.


	21. A Minor Truce

When Margot finally found Abigail, it was closing in on ten in the evening. The girl remained hunkered over a sandwich in the food court, chewing but not tasting, judging by her mechanical movements.

Margot grumpily had a seat across from her. “Abby, where the hell have you been? Will’s been asking for you!”

Abigail huffed. “He probably just wants to break up with me… I left before he had the chance.”

 _“What?_   Why, what happened?”

Abigail’s eyes were bitter. “Apparently ‘I’ll always love you and nothing will ever change that’ doesn’t extend to murder and deception.”

“But I thought he already knew…?”

“The basics, yeah. I made the mistake of telling him ‘the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’”

“Well, shit…”

“Yep.”

Sighing, Margot rubbed her forehead and shrugged. “To be fair, shouldn’t you have expected this? Will built this whole delusion around you to keep himself sane – to keep himself grounded. He told me that when he was in prison, you were the first thing to enter his mind when he woke up, and the very last before he went to sleep. You were a crutch, so now that you’ve destroyed what brought him so much happiness, he isn’t going to be all sunshine and butterflies.”

Abigail appeared affronted. “But I’m still the same person…”

“I know you are, Abby, but Will’s a sensitive guy.” Margot smiled sadly. “If it makes you feel any better, Will seemed upset that I couldn’t find you… I really don’t think he wants to talk about breaking up.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head.

Releasing a breath, Abigail pushed her plate aside and rose from the table. “Alright, well…I guess I need to face him sooner or later. Thanks for talking some sense into me.”

Margot winked. “It’s what I do.”

* * *

When Abigail returned to Will’s room, she was surprised to find him standing in front of the window, his body weight resting against a chair as he gazed stonily out at the darkening clouds.

“Will?” She was alarmed. “Will, you should be in bed…”

“I’ve been ‘in bed’ all week,” he groused. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

Unsure if she was comfortable with his gloomy disposition, Abigail entered the room and shut the door behind her. “Did you still want to see me?”

Will finally turned from the window and paused, the dark circles under his eyes enhancing their tragic, yearning quality. He still held onto the chair as he nodded.

Awkwardly, Abigail lingered a moment before stopping in front of him, her hands clasped and fumbling with her own fingers. “Will, I-”

“Don’t,” he pleaded. “You need to know something…something I’ve been trying to ignore for a long while now.”

Abigail gaped up at him, then slowly sank onto his unmade bed.

Taking this as permission to continue, Will said, “Before you left, you said I used to be a monster…” He smiled weakly. “I’m _still_ a monster, Abigail. While you were presumed dead, I…I killed a man.”

“Randall Tier?”

His head snapped up, startled. “How did…?”

“Hannibal,” she said, shrugging. “Nothing about you was ever kept secret from me.”

Twisting his lips, Will curled his hands as he absorbed her words. “Well…what I did wasn’t quite the same as what you did with Boyle, but…I’ve realized it’s similar. We both attacked based on survival, and…and neither of us regretted our actions.” Eyes burning, Will tilted his head toward the ceiling and swallowed. “But when we get to Beverly and Alana, I’m afraid that’s where our similarities end. I could never, _ever_ condone what happened to them.”

Abigail’s eyes grew glossy. “Will, I told you all those things just to hurt you… I was upset and confused, and I-”

“You _weren’t_ lying!” Will feverishly cut in. “Don’t you get it, Abigail? That was the one time you were genuinely truthful with me…the _one_ time you didn’t scheme or manipulate to get your way!”

“That’s not true! I don’t always lie!”

“You’re lying right _now!”_

Lurching up from the bed, Abigail curled her fists and snarled, “I only liked killing Bloom because she made me think of my mom! Boyle and Alana were the only people I felt righteous about killing – I _swear,_ Will!”

“How many others have you killed?”

She twitched, gritting her teeth as tears welled up in her eyes. “Alana and Boyle were the only ones…all the others were assisted kills.” When Will scoffed, she stamped her foot. “I’m telling the _truth,_ goddammit! I’m tired of hiding everything…why do you think I finally came clean?”

“Because you felt cornered?” Will’s eyes were tired and cynical. “That’s what you’ve always done in the past, isn’t it?”

“No!” Jabbing her fist against her heart, she cried, “I told you everything because…because I _love_ you! I know we never really say it, but you have to know this is all real!”

Will gave a dry, throaty chuckle. “Abigail, I haven’t known what’s real or _not_ real for quite some time now. It all started with you, ironically enough.”

“What, so you’re blaming _me_ for your delusions? I didn’t ask to be saved – I didn’t _ask_ for you to kill my dad!”

Will jerked as if he’d been slapped. “I’m not going to apologize for saving you.”

“No? Well why _did_ you ask me to come here, Will? To bring me down? To make me feel like shit? ‘Cause congratulations, it’s working!”

Silence throbbed between them and Will swallowed, carefully releasing the chair so he could step toward her. He had known the truth for quite a while now…he’d known that his mind was decayed, much like wooden floorboards ready to give out from the slightest pressure. Garrett Jacob Hobbs had wormed his way through that rot and nested there, torturing him with the cancerous threat of actually _being_ him. Will had thought everything was back to normal after prison – that he’d overcome that internal beast – but his most recent dream proved that nothing could be further from the truth. And even though Abigail had hurt him deeply, that still didn’t change the fact that he wanted to protect her. It didn’t _change_ that he loved her. God help him, he was still captivated by her, tainted soul and all. Sometimes you could only find completion with your own kind.

Will was in front of Abigail now, his gaze soft and desolate as he assessed her height against his own. “I…I had a nightmare,” he finally choked out. Abigail’s head was bowed, but he knew she was listening. “It was about your father…” He noticed her brow knit, and compulsively, he reached out and smoothed back her hair. “He wanted me to kill you, Abigail…to be his successor and finish what he’d started.”

“When?” Her voice was small and hollow.

“Before you first visited…before you confessed.”

Lifting her eyes, Abigail weakly asked him, “Were all those theatrics just to keep me away, then? Or do you really hate me?”

“I could never hate you… I want to, but I can’t.” Will’s breath came out in soft, razor-like puffs as he cupped her cheeks. “Oh, Abby,” he whispered, now burying his face in her hair, “you understand why I did it, don’t you? Why I had to turn you away?” His voice was hushed – _pleading_ – and he nuzzled her as she kept her hands at her sides. “I just can’t risk all of this anymore… If you keep away from me, I know you’ll be safe.”

 _“Safe?”_ Abigail scoffed, viciously wrenching herself free of his grasp. “Look around you, Will! This should be proof that _nothing_ can guarantee our safety!” She gave a disbelieving little snort. “I mean yeah, if we broke up maybe I’d be safer, but so what? I could die in an accident, and then I’d have missed out on the one thing in my life that’s real! Why would you want to give all this up because of a stupid whim?”

Will flinched. “But, I…I still _see_ things.”

“So do I!” Abigail cried, almost laughing amidst her hysteria. “I’ve been seeing Marissa and the girls for months now! Remember the broken mirror? That’s when I first started seeing them!” She shrugged and sniffled. “I’m not scared of them anymore, Will…or at least, not when I’m with you.”

“Abby…”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, ok? I know I fucked up, and I _know_ what I did was horrible, but you’ve made mistakes too. Can’t you just accept that I want to change? That I want to start over?”

Will exhaled through his nose, long and deep. “Abigail, you’ve dropped multiple bombshells on me today, so you can’t just expect me to recover from everything all at once. As much as I can’t imagine my life without you, I just…I need some time.”

“But-”

_“Please.”_

She looked up at him, bottom lip quivering with grief. “Well what does that mean for us, then?”

“I…I don’t know.” Will glanced down at the floor. “I’m not going to lie and pretend this will be easy, but I’m willing to try. Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me, so I just…I’d rather not go through that again.” He scratched his arm and swallowed. “I have to remind myself that it’s not completely your fault…that you wouldn’t have done those things if it weren’t for Hannibal.”

“I was trying to survive,” Abigail weakly said. “I know it’s no excuse, but I was scared and just did what I’d always done with my dad… I thought if I did what Hannibal said, he’d eventually let me go.”

Will looked sick. “He wasn’t going to let either of us go, Abigail… He encouraged me to do horrible things, too.”

“I know.”

“Not just with Randall Tier.”

Abigail reached out and laid her hand against his arm, feeling him quiver beneath her touch. “I know,” she said again. “I know that you tried to have Hannibal killed…that you tried to shoot some guy in a barn, and…and that you liked how righteous you felt. I know that you hurt and manipulated lots of people, but in the end it was just to get your life back. I could never blame you for wanting to be free.”

“I wanted to be free, but not of you,” Will whispered. “If I’d have known you were still alive, I would’ve tried harder… I would’ve-”

“No,” Abigail cut in, shaking her head. “It’s over now… Please, Will, I don’t want to think about Hannibal, or my dad, or anything else that’s kept me from moving forward. You’re the only thing that’s real now…you’re the only thing left that I want.” She reached out and grasped his hands. “I know you need some time to process everything – hell, I do, too – but I want you to know I’ll do whatever you say. If you need me back at the hospital, I’ll go without a fight.”

Will stared at her in shock. He wanted to tell her not to be ridiculous – that she would _never_ need to go back – but Alana and Beverly’s smiling faces appeared and the assurances died in his throat.

“I…I’ll think about it,” he promised. He could tell Abigail was hurt that he didn’t refuse her offer, but he tried not to let this deter him. Having space was key to his (and her) recovery. This would be good for them.

Running his thumbs across her palms, Will felt his chest tighten when Abigail withdrew her hands. “Abby…”

“No, it’s alright… I said I’d listen to you, so I will. I just…I wish things were different.”

Will’s eyes were glassy. “Me, too.”

Abigail slowly backed away from him then, tears spilling down her cheeks before she turned and moved for the door. When she became outlined by the doorframe, Will jolted as he was referred back to one of the final memories of his mother. She stood in the doorway, back facing him and shaking her head, ignoring his father’s pleas as she warned that ‘this was the last time.’

“Don’t go,” Will found himself pleading, though not loudly enough for Abigail to hear. The door closed then and a sob caught in his throat, his knees hitting the floor before he doubled over and shuddered into the tile. He loved Abigail. He _loved_ her, but he knew he couldn’t have her…not if he wanted to give her the chance for a normal life.


	22. Giving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content warning

A little over a week later, Will had been cleared by the doctors and granted permission to return to normalcy. Or rather, his and Abigail's new arrangement plan. Upon his insistence, she had kept the cabin (and the dogs) while he'd opted for a small, seedy motel along the road leading into town. Abigail had gone along with his decision, as promised, but Will could tell she wasn't happy with the arrangement. He hated to see her left wanting.

"Hey Will, where do you want these?"

He turned, watching as Margot lugged his suitcases into the room with three labored, uneven strides.

"Oh, uh…by the bed's fine." Setting down his toiletries, he said, "I feel awful making you help me like this, but I didn't know who else to ask…"

"Don't worry about it. The doctor said to take it easy, so I don't mind doing all the heavy-lifting."

He smiled weakly. "Nothing like being emasculated first thing in the morning, eh?"

"Oh, please." Margot grinned and rolled her eyes. "You do plenty well with that on your own."

"Gee, thanks." Sinking down heavily onto his bed, he rested his weight on his hands and sighed.

"Aren't you going to ask me about Abigail?"

"…What?"

"You know I've been staying with her all week, so I'm sure you have some questions."

He shrugged, appearing surly as he lowered his eyes. "It's probably best if I don't know anything, given how it's easier to heal this way."

"Is it?" Margot eyed him skeptically. "Do you really think you're healing by being apart?"

"Not now, Margot."

"Not  _now?_  I'm the only one in this room with a healthy relationship, so I think you'd do well to listen to me!"

Will studied her curiously. "You have…? I mean…?"

"That's right," she smugly said. "After I help you unpack, I've got myself a date." Clearly pleased with herself, Margot bent over and began unloading his suitcases. "She's the best thing that's happened to me since…well… _ever,_  so I'd appreciate it if you didn't hold me up for long."

Will smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm happy for you, Margot – if anyone deserves the chance to start over, it's you."

"Damn straight." After she'd filed away the last of his shirts, Margot closed the dresser drawer and turned to him with a glint in her eye. "I know you and Abigail both have some kind of martyr complex going on, but it's really starting to get on my nerves. She loves you and you love her, so it shouldn't be this difficult. There are plenty of couples with a lot less."

"But-"

"Ah-ah! I just finished unpacking, so that means it's date time. Just think about what I said, ok? You two love making everything harder than it has to be."

Will watched Margot cross the room, his mouth in a silent 'o.'

As she opened the door, she turned back to him and gave a wink. "When you two hook up again, I'll expect a thank you dinner as payment…preferably steak." She left and walked out before Will could say anything, leaving him baffled and staring off into space.

Maybe Margot was right…maybe he really  _was_  hurting himself with this separation. To him, Abigail had always been like a flower in a desert – a flower he'd reached for with bleeding hands, raw from trying to pluck her from the earth and preserve her from the horrid, ugly evils surrounding their lives. Why had he thought he'd be successful?  _Why_   had he assumed Abigail wasn't stained from her experiences? Or perhaps just like with his mother's fickle affections, he'd conveniently chosen to ignore all the signs.

Will sighed. He'd been unfair to Abigail…he'd expected the world of her, and now he had the world, but no Abigail. This wasn't what he wanted – this wasn't what he  _needed._  As much as it destroyed his ego, he knew he could never truly cast her aside. His love had made him blind to her faults, and even after learning little bits of truth during his time with the FBI, he  _still_  hadn't wanted to believe the evidence. And now that Abigail had practically gift-wrapped the truth, was he really going to discard her? Was he  _really_  going to turn his back on the one person who understood him? Who didn't fear him? Who actually  _loved_  him?

Looking up at the cracked ceiling, Will flopped back on his bed and swallowed. It hurt. Oh God, it  _hurt…_ all his life he'd gone searching for someone who would care for him – for someone who would love him despite his eccentricities – and now that he'd finally found that someone, it seemed he was intent on destroying his happiness. Was solitude truly worth his pride?

Will glanced over at the phone on his nightstand. But rather than give in to his desires, he drew back and stubbornly rolled over onto his side.

* * *

By the time Abigail's cab pulled into the Cedar Grove Motel, it was already seven in the evening. She fidgeted, anxiously chewing her lip as she gazed up into the darkening sky.

"You gettin' out, ma'am?"

"Hm? Oh! Yes, yes, I'm sorry…" Distracted, Abigail paid the fare and stepped out into the gravel parking lot with her painful, impractical high heels. She'd wanted to look nice for Will, so to her that meant ignoring her usual style (which was based almost solely on comfort). On the plus side, the short, red sundress she currently wore showed off her long legs to perfection.

Unsteadily moving toward the motel office (her shoes were a little hard to walk in), Abigail waved to the clerk and rapped on the glass. When he motioned her inside, she beamed and opened the door, grateful to be indoors due to the impending rain.

"Hi," she cautiously greeted. "Is a Mr. Will Graham staying here?"

"Who's asking?" The clerk looked her over, chewing on a toothpick as he eyed her skeptically.

"Oh, uh…I'm his wife," Abigail lied. "I wanted to surprise him by stopping by, so if you could just lend me the key for a little while, that'd be great."

The balding man shrugged, then turned toward the rack on the wall. "Sure," he muttered. "He's staying in room sixteen."

Well, so much for security…

Accepting the key with a smile, Abigail quickly bustled out of the office and back into the parking lot, her heart pounding as she envisioned the various scenarios that could follow. She wanted to think Will would be happy to see her, but what if he told her to leave? What if he didn't give her the chance to plead her case?

Reaching room number sixteen, Abigail took a deep breath and inserted the key into the lock. She jiggled it around, her pulse quickening as the door pushed open in a brisk, sudden jerk that nearly sent her flying over the threshold. To her surprise, the small, dingy room appeared to be empty, but she could see a sliver of light coming from behind the bathroom door. She swallowed nervously.

Now stepping out of her heels, Abigail tucked them under her arm and quietly shut the door behind her. She was reminded of sneaking past her parents on prom night.

Sparing the bathroom door a glance, Abigail drew a breath and crept toward the bed. Each pound of her pulse resonated throughout her temples, and she anxiously found herself wondering if Will could hear it, too. The notion made her peer toward the door yet again.

Still nothing…

Only marginally appeased, Abigail sank down onto the bed and set her shoes off to the side, now glancing at the mirror that hung directly in front of her on the wall. When she caught sight of her styled hair, painted face, and seductive dress, she instantly felt foolish and self-conscious. Will Graham wasn't like most men, so who even said he would  _like_  this change? He'd loved her as a snotty teenager…he'd loved her when she'd degraded him and shunned him, so again, why had she assumed she'd need to change herself to win him back? Did she really think that little of him?

Flushing all over, another thought entered her mind: what if the clerk had assumed she was a prostitute? This wasn't the cleanest, safest place she'd ever visited, so that could explain why he'd given her Will's key without so much as a verification. Despite her embarrassment, she began to laugh.

"Abigail?"

She lurched, now staggering up from the bed as she turned in alarm. "Will," she breathed, feeling the heat in her cheeks intensify. He looked at her curiously, his glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose in a precarious, slightly off-kilter angle that she immediately wanted to fix. His hair was also messy and unbrushed, and he was only wearing pants and an undershirt. When Abigail spotted his socks and shoes, she bit her lip to keep from laughing, for she knew he was only wearing them for OCD reasons. He disliked putting his feet on strange carpets.

With a shuddery intake of breath, Will stepped forward and curled his fists. "How…how did you get in here?"

Abigail sheepishly held up a key. "The security here isn't the best...I'm sorry for barging in on you like this, but I really needed to see you." When Will's eyes shifted toward her ensemble, she blushed and shyly twisted her hands. "I know you need your space, but I've spent over two weeks without you, and I just…I can't take it anymore." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Don't let me sleep alone tonight, Will. Please."

"Abby…"

 _"Please._  I'll do anything you want." He approached her then and she quaked, feeling his hand cup her cheek as he forced her to return his gaze. His eyes were glassy as he smoothed his fingers through her hair.

"I'd never make you do anything for me," he whispered. "You've already spent the past two years living up to an ideal I created, and I no longer want that… I just want you. The  _real_  you."

Her bottom lip trembled. "Will, I-"

"No, it's ok. Like you said, if I can forgive myself, I can forgive you, too… I don't want to think about the past anymore. When I laid here imagining my future, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture my life without you in it. You're important to me…that'll never change."

Abigail felt her pulse quicken. "Do you mean that?" His lips traced her forehead and she quivered, grasping his shirt with both hands. "Can I…? I mean…will you let me touch you?"

His hands cupped the small of her back and he pulled her close, kissing the freckles on her nose as he sighed against her skin. "You can do whatever you want to me."

Ebullient, Abigail took his shoulders and urged him back toward the bed, forcing him to sit upon it as she breathlessly knelt between his legs. With careful, gentle tugs, she removed each of his socks and shoes, then laid them neatly beside her on the floor. Reaching for his belt, she unfastened his pants and heard his breath hitch. He was already painfully erect.

Now pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles, Abigail felt Will cup her cheek and she moved to kiss his wrist, feeling his pulse race urgently beneath her lips.

"C'mere," he pleaded.

Her eyes met his and a flutter formed in the pit of her stomach, a pulsing, throbbing ache flaring up wetly in her core. His thumb traced her lips and Abigail kissed that too, now reaching up to slide the straps of her dress down her arms. When her budding nipples became exposed to the chilled air, Will drew a breath and shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"Abby,  _please…"_

Rising so she could wriggle the rest of the way out of her clothes, she relished in Will's stunned expression when he realized she'd gone without underwear.

"You…? I mean…"

"Yep," she agreed, grinning as she moved to kiss him firmly on the mouth. Feeling his lips part for her searching tongue, she moaned and angled her face more urgently into his, allowing his hands to cup her ass as she straddled his lap.

Will broke the kiss with a sharp breath. "W-wait," he pleaded. "I…I think I might have a condom in my wallet…"

"Leave it," Abigail whispered. "I haven't truly felt you since my first time, and right now, that's all I want…to feel you."

"But-"

 _"Please."_  Reaching up to frame his face, Abigail took hold of his glasses and gently slid them off the bridge of his nose. He had once told her that in times of discomfort, he'd often use his glasses as a type of shield, but Abigail didn't want him to shut her out – not this time.

After removing his shirt, Will placed his hand on her back and urged her to grind against him, her lips coming over his as her hands traced down the length of his chest. She could feel his skin shivering beneath her touch, but still she explored him, savoring the act as if it were their first time.

Beginning to slide her heat along the stiff bar of him, Abigail embraced Will around the shoulders and whimpered, now burying her face in his throat as his breath grew shallow. His arms came around her waist and they held one another tightly, both rocking their hips as Will groaned into her shoulder.

Kissing his temple, Abigail pushed on his chest and forced him to recline. The doctor had warned them to be careful – that they needed to avoid anything too rough or strenuous – but Abigail knew she could be gentle with him.

Getting into position, she looked down at Will with her large, dusky eyes and slid her folds against his tip. He arched his back and impatiently tugged on her hips, trying to force her down onto his arousal. With an admonishing little smile, Abigail caught his hands and entwined their fingers, now easing herself down around him with a soft little gasp. "Oh…" she breathed, feeling him impatiently squirm beneath her. Resting all her weight on her knees, Abigail bowed forward and began to roll her hips with several firm, even undulations. Will groaned and tossed his head back, digging his fingers into her waist as she bounced on his cock. Cheeks flushed and eyes bright, Abigail leaned forward to claim his mouth sweetly with her own, her tongue tracing his lips as she continued to work him deep inside her.

Will groaned into her mouth and jerked his hips in offering. Gliding his hands up her spine and into her hair, he surprised her by rolling them over so that she was pinned beneath his weight.

Abigail broke the kiss and panted. "Will," she breathed, "Will, wait a minute… Remember what the doctor said…"

He nuzzled into her neck and kissed her thrumming pulse. "I'll be careful," he promised. Palming a breast, Will raised his eyes and studied her face, relishing in the deep blush that spread across her chest and curled up toward her cheeks. Lips parted and back arching, Abigail sighed and allowed him to trace her curves with his explorative fingers, his touch skimming across her hip before cupping the shape of her thigh.

"You're beautiful," Will whispered, smiling. Beautiful and  _his._  Sometimes it felt beyond his comprehension to realize that.

Abigail lightly whacked his arm. "Less talking, more thrusting."

He chuckled into her throat, encouraging her to rock into him as she impatiently rolled her hips into his driving hardness. With his mouth brushing over her scar, he groaned into her skin and felt her insides tightly gripping him, his hands tilting her hips so that she was forced to take him in more deeply.

Abigail cried out and scoured her nails down his back, her head tossing as she convulsed wetly around his stabbing arousal. With his lips claiming hers in a rough, bruising kiss, Will angled his face into hers and shuddered, his body growing taut and euphoric as he came hard inside her.

The two writhed as their hips jerked with desperation, both clinging to the other as they slowly drifted down from their staggering orgasm.

Struggling for breath, Will pressed his face between Abigail's breasts and shivered, feeling her fingers card through his hair as he kissed her skin. "Abby?" he asked, suddenly feeling sheepish. "Would it be too cliché to say I love you?"

He heard her snort. "Of course it would, but say it anyway."

Drifting kisses from her shoulder to her neck, Will smiled and teased, "But I just did…"

"Say it the  _real_  way, asshole."

He laughed. "Well who needs endearments when I have your warm, ever-growing hatred?"

Nuzzling the top of his head, Abigail pressed her cheek into his hair and smiled. "Will?"

"Hmm?"

"I do love you…even if it  _is_  super cliché."

He chuckled and kissed the thick, mangled scarring on her throat. "I love you too, even though you're a poor sport and a blanket hog."

"Oh, yeah? Would a poor sport keep you from having more sex tonight?"

"Yes…"

She grinned. "Good…I wanted to make sure you know what you're getting into." Now allowing Will to turn them over, Abigail sighed and snuggled up against his front while he spooned her from behind. When his arms came around her waist, she felt a prodding between her thighs and balked. "Are you  _seriously_  turned on again?"

"Well, I  _did_  just spend a week in a coma…"

Giggling, Abigail rolled over in his arms and slid her hands up his shoulders, her eyes bright and coquettish as she bit her lip. "Will, you know what the doctor said…"

"Oh c'mon, just give me five more minutes."

 _"Five?_   Oh, please! You'll be done in two minutes, tops."

Will responded by playfully wrestling her underneath him, Abigail's shrieks of laughter filling the dingy room as he made an effort to prove his stamina.


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Fluff. Lots and lots of fluff.**

Several months later, Will and Abigail found themselves back in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Despite Abigail's assurance that she didn't mind returning to the hospital (even though she most certainly did), Will had insisted that she come live with him and his dogs.

So now, sitting at the rectangular dining room table, Abigail continued to entertain their guests, Margot and Judy as Will shoveled snow outside.

"Does anyone want a donut?" Abigail offered.

Margot looked down at the presented box with a snort, then suddenly broke out into a wide, pleased little grin. "Hey, that reminds me… Have you ever read one of those trashy magazines in the check-out aisle?" When everyone nodded, she said, "Well one day, I was looking through some magazine articles – for sex tips, of course – and it said that putting a donut around a guy's dick during blow jobs is super popular right now. Can you  _believe_  that shit?"

Abigail made a face. "Ewww…"

"I know, right? I'd just want the donut."

Giggling, Abigail said, "Will and I would never try anything like that anyway."

"Yeah? Well I wish you would, 'cause maybe if something was in your mouth, I wouldn't have to put up with all the animal noises coming from your room. I mean, damn, how many times did you invoke God last night?  _Oh God, oh God, oh God!_  I didn't know you were so religious."

Abigail blushed, but Judy was falling against Margot in peals of laughter. When the girl moved to give a snide retort, the back door opened and emitted a cold, biting wind that she felt even through her warmly knit sweater.

"Will, close the door!" she whined.

He grinned at them, knocking the snow off his boots before stepping inside and obeying Abigail's request. "All done!" he announced. "I cleared a path behind your car, so now you're free to go."

"So in other words, you can't stand being around three gorgeous women," Margot said.

Will sidled into the room and chuckled. "No, no, I just don't want you in my house anymore."

 _"Will!"_  Abigail exclaimed, horrified.

Laughing, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. As he sat down beside Abigail, she took note of his bright, mischievous eyes and rosy, frost-nipped cheeks. He was exceptionally full of himself that afternoon.

Underneath the table, he reached over and fondly clasped her warmer hand in his, thus causing any irritation to melt away as she warmly returned the gesture.

"Sooo," Margot slyly began, "who wants to play charades? I promise I won't cheat…all that much."

Abigail felt her heart leap into her throat. Earlier that morning, she'd asked the girls to suggest the game, but now that the time had finally come, she felt anxious and excited about what she needed to share. Fortunately for her, Will seemed oblivious to her trembling.

"Sure," he agreed, "why not? I guess that means it's couple versus couple?"

Rising from the table, Abigail tried to calm her breathing as she offered, "We can…I-I mean…we'll go first."

"Alright," Will said, "but I'm warning you, Abby, I'm  _extremely_  rusty. Don't blame me if we lose."

When Margot and Judy exchanged pleased looks, Abigail ducked her head and moved toward the front of the room. As soon as all eyes were on her, she held up three fingers and nervously waited.

"Three words?"

She nodded, then looked straight to Will and pointed at herself.

"Uh…you?"

Abigail nodded again, then bit her lip before making a curved, swoopy motion over her belly.

Will's brows rose high on his head. "You think you're  _fat?"_

"NO!"

He lurched back, stunned by the three women's explosive response.

Sighing, Abigail made the sweeping gesture yet again, but this time folded her arms in a rocking motion that made Will's heart leap.

"You…? You're…?" He swallowed, slowly rising from his chair as she stilled her movements. Now grasping her arms, he asked, "You're pregnant?"

Abigail was still pale and anxious, but she allowed a bright smile to flood across her face.

"Well, shit…"

She frowned. "Is…is that a good shit or a bad shit?"

"A  _good_  shit! …Wait, that sounds weird."

Giggling, Abigail embraced Will and allowed him to lift her into his arms, his excitement suddenly outweighing her own as he laughed and spun her into yet another hug. He urged his mouth fiercely over hers, but she squirmed away in embarrassment.

"Will,  _stop!_  I don't think Margot and Judy need all the PDA…"

He looked over at the two women and grinned. "Oh, you mean  _they're_  still here? If you ladies will excuse me, I'm about to make sweet love to my girlfriend."

_"Will!"_

He hefted Abigail over his shoulder and she squealed, flailing her limbs as he smacked her rump.

Margot snorted. "What, so we're getting an encore? I think we  _all_ got pregnant after last night's rutting."

Abigail covered her face and whined, feeling dizzy as Will carried her off toward their bedroom.

Judy rose and lifted a dessert box. "Do you guys need a donut?" she called after them.

When the door shut, Will finally set Abigail down and kissed her forehead. "I needed to get you alone," he explained. "I'm sorry for all the theatrics, but I just…I wanted it to be just the two of us."

Placing his hands over her stomach, he lifted her sweater until his palms were resting against bare flesh. "Is it true?" he softly asked. "Are you really pregnant?"

Abigail nodded, beaming as she placed her hands over his. "I am. Margot took me to the doctor to be sure."

"So they already knew?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to tell you in case it was a false alarm."

Will's face broke into a look of pure euphoria and he sank down to his knees, grasping her hips before nuzzling into her soft belly. As he drifted soft kisses across her skin, he suddenly paused and pressed an ear to her stomach. "I…I think I can hear him…"

Abigail laughed. "Will, that's probably just the BLT I ate. It's way too early to hear things like that now."

Will kissed her skin yet again, then reached into his pocket while taking her hand. Peering down at him in confusion, Abigail furrowed her brows and watched him place something cold into her palm.

"It's not much," Will shyly said, "but I've wanted to ask you for months now. Of course, this seems kind of cliché now that we've added a baby to the mix, but hey, I'm not complaining." He chuckled. "Thanks for upstaging me, by the way. It's kind of hard to beat baby news."

Abigail stared at him, barely able to process his words as she gaped down at the simple, modest ring twinkling in her palm. "You want to…? I mean…"

"If you don't like it, we can trade it in," Will quickly assured her. "I've never been one for picking out jewelry – especially  _'the_  jewelry,' if you get my drift – but hey, I tried."

Abigail felt dizzy with emotion. But instead of gushing like she wanted, she laughed and teased, "Did you seriously just propose to me without  _actually_  proposing? That takes some real talent."

"Well, we've all got to be good at something." Kissing her knuckles, Will asked, "So is that a yes to my chicken shit proposal, or is that a no?"

She beamed, now sinking down to her knees so that they were gazing eye to eye. "All my life, I've wanted somewhere to belong – to find someone who'd love me for me – and even though you're a big baby when it comes to expressing how you really feel, I know I've found that somewhere and someone with you." Reaching out to cup his face, she smiled and fondly pressed her forehead to his.

"Sooo, was that a yes?"

 _"Yes!_  Yes, I'll marry you, you big idiot!"

 _"Marry_ me? Who ever said anything about marriage? I was asking if you'd do me the honors of cleaning this beautiful ring I found." Avoiding her playful slap, he laughed and pulled her into his arms, bringing his mouth firmly to hers as she sighed into the kiss. Feeling more amorous, Will tried to get Abigail to recline, but she stopped him with a gentle push on his chest.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I will  _not_  have my first time as 'the future Mrs. Graham' on our cold, uncomfortable bedroom floor… We'll have to wait until they leave so we can do it on the kitchen counter."

"Oh, 'cause  _that's_  sanitary…"

She bit her lip. "You've never complained before…"

Chuckling, he nuzzled into her neck and kissed her throat. "Fair enough."

"Are you two  _seriously_  having sex while we're sitting out here?" they heard Margot call. "At least have the decency to turn on a radio!"

Lurching up in surprise, Will cleared his throat and shyly helped Abigail into a sitting position. "I guess we should go back out now… I only wanted to get you alone so I could ask, and…yeah. I've asked."

"And I've said yes," Abigail chirped, flushing with pleasure.

Will grinned. "Well, between now and…uh… _forever,_  let's hope you won't come to your senses."

Giggling, Abigail accepted his help and the two rose from off the floor, still holding each other's hands as they re-entered the kitchen.

Margot looked up with a sneer. "Wow, that was pretty quick, as far as most quickies go."

Will soured, but Abigail laughed. "We weren't having sex… We were just…uh…" She flushed, appearing pleased and embarrassed as she leaned into Will's arm. The movement of her left hand immediately drew Judy's attention.

"Is  _that…?"_

"Holy shit!" Margot cut in, shocked. "You actually stopped being a tightwad and bought it!"

Now it was Will's turn to blush. "I…I've always wanted to, it's just…funds were hard to come by." He felt Abigail give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You didn't need to spend a lot of money on me," she said. "I would've been perfectly happy with a fake, just so long as you meant everything you said."

"Hmph,  _now_  you tell me!"

The gravity of everything finally sunk in and Judy squealed, now rising from the table with an ecstatic clap of her hands. "Oh, I just  _love_  weddings – let us know if we can help in any way!"

Margot was smiling, but she couldn't resist throwing in one final dig. "Does this mean we'll have to put up with extra kissy faces and animal noises now?"

"I dunno," Will said, "maybe Abby and I should go back to our room and find out."

Abigail clapped a hand over her face. "Will,  _please…"_

"See, ladies? She's practically begging me!"

Margot threw her hands up in disgust. "Alright,  _alright,_ already! We'll go! You two sure don't know the meaning of subtlety."

As the two women gathered up their belongings, Abigail leaned into Will and tried not to laugh. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "He's kind of…"

"Impatient? Horny? All of the above?" Walking over to them with a grin, Margot simultaneously embraced them both with a tight, rocking squeeze. "At least try and wait 'til we get to the car, ok? I'm still trying to forget the noises from last night."

Judy hugged them next, and then the two women left in a flurry of warmth and good cheer.

Once they were finally alone, Will turned to Abigail with a mischievous little smile. "Well, you heard Margot: once they're in the car, we're supposed to go to bed."

"Ugh, you have the most selective hearing in the world!"

"So is that a yes?"

"Well, I –  _hey!"_  Squealing, Abigail lurched as Will gathered her up into his arms, laughing at her crass remarks as he carried her off to their room.

 

* * *

 

Breathless and spent, Abigail curled against Will's side as he wrapped her up in his arms. Running her fingers down his chest, she watched the light refract off her ring and smiled, snuggling against him more securely as he kissed her hair.

"You sure know how to wear a guy out…"

"Well, you  _did_  ask for it – and repeatedly, might I add – so I felt the pressure to deliver," Abigail said, pausing to kiss his shoulder. As her lips grazed the indented, uneven bullet scar, she felt him shift while stroking her hair.

"Did you…? I mean…did you feel pressured to say yes because of the baby?"

Abigail scoffed. "Oh,  _please._  If I wanted to leave you, I would've already done it a long time ago – trust me on that one. You're kind of unbearable sometimes."

Will grinned. "Gee, thanks." Now pressing his forehead to hers, he smiled and touched her cheek. "This is all still so surreal to me… Can you tell me the news again? That I'm going to be a dad?"

Mirroring his smile, Abigail took his hands and guided them down to her stomach, encouraging him to cup her soft skin. "You're going to be a dad," she echoed, squeezing his hands.

Will's face grew faintly pink with pleasure, then he grinned before looking up at her again. "You're going to be  _so_  fat…"

"And  _you're_  going to be black and blue if you keep it up." Kissing him softly on the mouth, she said, "I'm thinking I should do all the naming. I've heard what you have to offer, and no kid of mine is going to be named Winston."

Will chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous… His name is going to be Sir Reginald Feldspar Graham."

"Ugh, who  _are_ you? Besides, you can't name someone 'Sir'…you have to be knighted for that."

"Watch me."

Rolling her eyes, Abigail smiled and said, "Alright, I'll name the kid, but let _you_  have the final say in the matter. How's that?"

"Fair, I guess, just so long as you let me build the little guy a swing set."

"And if 'the little guy' is actually a little girl?"

"Same thing, except I'll be adding fake tea parties to the list."

Abigail giggled. "That's a little sexist, don't you think?"

"Ok, fine…if it's a boy, I'll  _still_  add fake tea parties to the list."

Abigail's eyes suddenly grew moist and she quivered, pressing a hand to his cheek before brushing the curls back from his eyes. "Thank you…"

"For what?" Will asked, bewildered.

"For loving me when nobody else would."

Will's gaze softened and he leaned into her touch. "There'll never be anyone I love more…except maybe the baby. You two are going to have to fight for my affections."

Laughing amidst her tears, Abigail embraced Will and rested her cheek against his chest. "What'd I do to deserve you?"

"Not sure, but your peach cobbler makes you pretty marriage-worthy."

Abigail huffed. "I'm serious! All my life I've hit roadblock after roadblock, so I just…I dunno… I keep waiting to wake up and find this was all a dream."

Will threaded his fingers through her hair and stared wistfully at the ceiling. "If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way… It's hard to believe I finally have everything I've ever wanted." Smiling, he teased, "I guess now all I have to look forward to is death…oh, and sex. Lots and lots of sex."

Abigail snorted. "Well I think  _someone's_  getting a tad ahead of himself…"

"Why? I didn't necessarily mean sex with  _you,_  you know."

Whacking him with her pillow, Abigail felt herself get wrestled against his chest and she shrieked, laughing as he tried to engage her in a kiss. As his lips sought hers, Abigail was left with a blooming warmth in her heart, the growing life in her belly, and a perfect moment she wished would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONE. FINALLY. I had sooo much trouble ending this fic, and even considered continuing because I had a fun, goofy idea for Will and Abby taking a Lamaze class together. Then I thought I could turn it into a one-shot, and then I thought NO. NO MORE. haha This was soooo fluffy, and I mainly blame that on the fact that I no longer have hope of Abigail ever having a happy ending. :( She deserves one, so this is my little gift to her. DAMN YOU, BRYAN. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE BOOK CANON? –sobs- Granted, Will and Abby never had a romantic relationship in the book, BUT SHE WAS STILL ALIVE AND THAT IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME. Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with me throughout this story, because this is much, much more than I usually write. And if you survived the fluff, maybe we can cry together about the injustice of Abigail's fate. saodhasoihdoahdohkj Ok, well…I have nothing else to add, so thanks again! I love and appreciate all of you! :)
> 
> P.S. True story about the donut blow jobs... I read it in Cosmo. lol


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